[He shouldn't have said it. The instant the name slipped from his mouth, Phil wanted to take it back. The more he sits with it, the more uneasy he becomes. Fuck, fuck, fuck... Lacking any method of erasing his name from Orange's memory--make that Freddy's memory--he settles for twining his fingers together and pulling them apart, again, again, again.

Nervous habit. So fucking what?]

Nice name, Freddy. [If that's actually his name. Because what if the clever bastard gave a false name? That's not on the level, and shit, why hadn't he just done that, himself? Didn't stay cool in the moment. Damnit. Okay, okay, so cool down now, don't make any more mistakes, you can't make mistakes in this game.]

Assuming motels even exist--and I'll tell you, I am very goddamn uncertain on that point--that ain't a bad idea. No sense sticking around here, waiting for cops or Christ knows whatever bigshot to turn up.