Finding the girl with the lollipop had been a lot harder than he'd expected.
Once he'd told Cassie who to Watch for, she'd quickly produced a drawing of the girl, in a room covered completely in dolls. Informative, but only in the sense that they could tell she was still alive, but completely useless in the sense that they had no idea where it was.
"You try and look for her, then! I'm doing the best I can!"
He'd tried drawing the water marks again, but they weren't answers anymore, they just silently mocked him until he moved, and lay on the shitty hotel bed in another shitty hotel room.
No watermarks, and if there were answers in the ceiling, they weren't talking.
Must have been a fluke.
After all, he was a Mover, not a Watcher.
A flick of the fingers, and his phone book drawing drifted off the dresser, to float, judging him, now. Two women. Two girls. One man.
Watch, he ordered himself.
Scrunching up his forehead, closing his eyes, he struggled, and strained, and heaved. He needed to Watch again.
"Maybe you should get smashed," Cassie suggested, eyes never leaving her book.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
The air conditioner was broken. Alternatively, it spit out snow flakes and highlighted their white breath in the air, and then would spew out heat, sticky and gritty, sitting in the pores and in every crevice of the body, sweaty and stiff.
It was like the Sahara today.
"Dolls! All I ever draw is dolls!"
Ice machine, stick a few cubes down the shirt. Temporary relief, no cure.
"I'm gonna take a shower."
The water here was a bit of a trickle down deal, soaking haphazardly. Running his hands through his hair, he considered the wall, frowning.
Carver had had a strange expression, when he'd been arranging for Nick to kill himself. It was one of recognition, recognition that did not stem from restaurants and indirect through – a – prisoner's Watching. It was the look of two men – certainly not friends, but not exactly enemies – who knew each other more deeply than even they knew.
"Don't make any decisions a Watcher can track."
He'd wanted to see his father in Carver's eyes, so he'd looked. Maybe he'd even Looked.
Dug about in the man's brains, ignored the black bit that was Carver's Push, and snooped, sneaked, peeked, genuinely Looked for his father.
Banging on the door made him jump.
"I have to pee!"
Pressed closer to the wall, breath catching as he stared at the soap scum, brows furrowing.
"Just a minute!" he called.
He searched for paper, couldn't find any. Looked for a pen, couldn't find one.
Settled on a towel and one of Cassie's lipsticks, drawing, fingers flying as he tried to transcribe the new answers giggling in the soap scum.
He threw the door open, holding up the towel, scrawled over in Frosty Plum. A man, scruffy, handing a doll to the girl with the lollipop, in a room he finally recognized.
"We need to go to Canada."