"You should. Everyone should go to Texas before they die." Donovan says, leading Irina up the steps to his motel room. He takes out the key and opens the door.
Inside, the room is spotless with nothing out of place. It could be the maid service, but most of is Donovan himself. He doesn't sleep in the bed; he hasn't done that in a long, long time.
It is also ice-cold in this room.
On the table is a bottle of imported Russian vodka and another bottle of Jack Daniel's. There's a small TV in one corner and a soft chair near the door next to the air conditioner...which is turned down as low as it will go.
"Come on in and sit anywhere you like. If you still want to drink, I've got stuff, but I figured you might have had your fill back at the bar." he grins.
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