Wes waved a hand dismissively. "Looks can be deceiving," he said airily, and reached behind the curtain to his side to grab his rifle, slinging it over his back and grabbing the packed duffel bag. "And don't worry about the climax, no matter what...", he raised his eyebrows at the memories of the past few minutes, "[i]this[/i] looks like, I'm not looking for drama." His head swam with images of various other roach motels he had stayed at over the past three years, and he inwardly cheered at the thought of having, at the very least, a decent shower. Not to mention the idea of wealthy benefactors - who knew what other things he could find out with the help of whomever else was around there? Or this Felix person, whom he assumed was spearheading the campaign in some way. Sounded like an information bank, and that Wes was willing to part with (though, of course, some cash lining his pockets would not be unappreciated).

	"You want me, you got me," he said with a half bow to seal his commitment as opposed to a shake (his arm was bloody, and he didn't exactly relish watching this guy lick that stuff off), but his eyes caught around the messy room, covered in blood and the bullethole in the wall prominent even in the unlit room. "But, uh, anything we can do about this first?" A we very heavy on the [i]you[/i], but Wes wasn't the Talented one. He didn't have any change to spare Ms. Needles, and for this...well, that would be a very hefty tip he couldn't give.