Ground Floored

“I gotcha.” Devin complied with the request, turning up the volume on the television manually by standing on a chair. The remote was… somewhere, hell if she knew, it was always walking off and being replaced. “Good?” Receiving a nod from one of the patrons, she stepped back down and made her way out of the kitchen to the elevators. The mechanic wanted nothing more than a few hours of peace in the garage, but chances are it would turn into an all hands situation.

“Up, or down,” she asked the hotel guest, a young looking punk who’d himself just come from the dining area.

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