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You need some saxophone music. Or noir music, not sure what the game is, but one of those

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Fifteen minutes past midnight, a thick fog settles on the quiet city streets. The dull pink glow of a neon hotel sign lights the way as I approach the scene of my investigation. Escape D'Hotel, huh? The name's too convenient for my liking, and I plan to find out if it's a mere coincidence, or sick joke gone wrong.

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I opened the door, to a cloud of smoke and the smell of spilled martinis. And there she was.
-"Clarissa. You told me I'd never see you again. Why would a gal like you be in a place like this?"
-"Ooh you'd never understand, even if I told you."
But I did understand. I knew because she had told.