By the time Hunter reached the posh lobby of Hotel Le Maurice, he was very much close to officially freaking out; which, of course, was an entirely new thing for the American. The usual attributes of being cool mannered, aloof, and blasé did not begin to describe the dust and grime covered, wild eyed man who alighted upon the hotel’s impeccably clean entry rug at a quarter past six. The women behind the counter looked up and blanched, having received him at check in two days prior.

“Monsieur Durand? Est-ce que vous allez bien?”

The words seemed to jolt him out of a haunted mindscape and his eyes darted to the desk. Immediately, he schooled his expression and cleared his throat.

“Ah… yes. Just a bad day…” He offered unconvincingly before moving in the direction of the elevators. The door to one of them chimed and an elderly, well-to-do couple emerged with a mirrored look of disdain strapped to their stupid, judgmental, saggy faces. With a low growl, he shouldered past them and stepped into the elevator, jamming his index finger against the button that would make the doors close quickly.

Blissfully, the trek up to the top floor where his deluxe suite was located went uninterrupted. As soon as the aperture opened, he closed the gap between the door of his room and the elevator in a few great strides. He fumbled with the keycard, his hands hadn’t stop shaking since he’d parted ways with Arabella and Gabrielle, and then lurched into the room; slamming the door behind him immediately.

He found himself situated before a mirror attached to an ornate dresser in the bedroom, his palms braced against the smooth surface. One look at his face, at the man he had devolved into, and he knew he had to somehow grasp normalcy or he would lose himself. The black shirt he wore was torn across the front and he pulled it over his head, discarding it into the waste basket next to the desk. Scratches, dirt, and what looked to be the imprint of a hand in the form of bruises marred his torso.

He toed his shoes off and slowly managed to unbuckle his belt on his way to the bathroom. There, he grabbed a fluffy white hand towel and doused it with water, swiping it across his abdomen with a soft hiss between his teeth. His flurry of movement came to an incredibly sudden halt as a knock sounded at his door. He stepped out of the bedroom and into the living area, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the door incredulously. Someone from the front desk come to check on him perhaps? Some semblance of his former self seemed to be returning, it seemed. Still, that dark voice in the back of his mind was there. The voice of fear. Don’t open it.

He stepped up to the door when the knock sounded again, his hand reaching out to the handle tentatively. Then, he pulled to open the door to whoever awaited him.