Litigation and Prosecution Specialist Lawyer

The motel located on the skirts of the Underbelly isn't exactly ritzy. One would think a clone with a fixation for monetary gain and high-end living wouldn't settle for such, but then again, he IS a drug dealer. One has to know where their clients go, or maybe he just needs a place that provides privacy first and asks questions never. There's no stop at the lobby or front desk; Shark already has a key card and heads straight for the door with the brass numbers 115 affixed to it. Key punched, lock clicks from a red light to green, doorknob turned and the way is open.

Maybe it's for the best this is still a Nexus venue that's good for not asking questions, because Shark is now leading a decidedly more masculine Adia by the hand into his room.

The room is dim, lit only by the daylight coming through the slats of the window shades. The beds are two singles, the sheets made on one, the other still rumpled from when the person in it got up. The TV is already on, left that way from their original departure, the audio on mute. The show currently on seems to be a sitcom starring a family of people who appear they're made of stone.

The usual amenities are also in the room; mini-fridge (full of beer), end table and alarm clock, microwave, closet (extra pillows/blankets, ironing board, standing fan), bathroom (door closed, lights on and shining from under the door.)

Only after the front door has closed behind them does Shark let go of Adia's hand. The clone looks briefly lost, wondering where to start, what to say, what needs to be done. His brow is wet with nervous sweat. The difficulty in breathing fully seems to eventually give Shark a place to begin. His tie is yanked undone and thrown onto the unmade bed. His coat is thrown there as well before he starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, thankfully(?) turned away from Adia. But he only gets three buttons down before Shark is stopped cold at the sight of cleavage.

"Okay." He says it softly to himself, moving his hands away from those buttons and turning his face forward again. "Okay, okay, okay. Be cool. Everyone be cool. Let's just be cool. Gotta be cool." The tension in Shark's posture, the cracking of his voice and the sweat starting to trickle down from his temple indicates being cool is an upward struggle.