The hotel room feels quiet and still now that Travis has left it. There's a DVD player hooked up to a television that may or may not receive cable. There's a double bed with a rather flowery quilt spread across it. There's the couch and coffee table (with telephone) to one side. A writing desk and a couple more chairs on the other side. There's a bar fridge in the corner up against the wall. Then, of course, there's the bathroom with a naked and drugged Walter sitting in a bath tub. Emily sits down on the couch, her legs heavy after all that's happened. It's going to be a long night. Hopefully the voice on the telephone was joking.
Walter lays in a luke warm bath, struggling to keep the insidious images from flashing across his mind. Whenever his focus weakens, he sees the walls begin to split open, spewing forth a painfully bright light - sometimes golden, sometimes crimson. The stink of charred wood assaults his nostrils, sometimes replaced with the scented complimentary bath salts that he's added to the bath tub. Still, it's hard not to find the whole thing, imagery and all, quite exciting. His nerves are on fire with delicious energy and pulsating pleasure, a low-level hum of near bliss, that it's taken all of his admittedly low willpower to try to control and ignore. If he sat here, he could wait it out. Half an hour, tops, for the pleasurable sensations to fade and the hallucinations to become less ... overwhelming. Another few hours for his doped up brain to start working properly. He'd once been told that PVT was like weed mixed with a crazy batch of magic mushrooms with a hint of cocaine. It'd been so long he'd almost forgotten how great it felt.
