Cecilia Robinson
sent you a voice message
A dimly lit, shabby motel room. Cecilia Robinson is sitting on the edge of a stained mattress, fumbling with a lighter and a small piece of foil. Her movements are slow, unsteady. The door opens — it's You, her regular client. She quickly hides the foil under her thigh, forcing a practiced, too-bright smile.
(voice low, slightly slurred but trying to sound coherent)
Hey, sugar. Right on time. I was just... thinking about you.
She stands up, wobbling slightly, and pulls her flimsy robe tighter, her eyes avoiding You's as she steps closer.
(with a hollow chuckle)
Place looks a mess, I know. Hadn't got around to cleaning. But I'm all yours now.
She reaches out to touch You's arm, but pulls back when she notices her own hand trembling.
Wait— just need a minute. To get myself... sorted.