She turned her head slightly to peer down at the tiny, blue-haired thing desperately begging on the floor, before taking another look around at this shit-hole room. The moment she did, the string on a painting snapped sending it crashing to the ground.

Yeah, if she were him, she wouldn't want to stay in this dump either.

Finally, a defeated sigh. She pointed back toward the door of the motel room. "Purple converse over there. Pick one and keep your head down."

He didn't beg any more than what he already had, just keeping silent until he heard what she had to say. The moment she pointed, Mathew ran. He didn't want to hold her up, especially with her being generous enough to keep him. For now, at least.

Crop tops? Check.

Two more pairs of shorts? Check.

Four pairs of socks? Not that she'd use 'em, but check anyway.

Laptop. Check.

Spare towels. Check.

Wrestling gear? Check, check, and check.

That was it.