literally cannot get enough of the idea of motel rats randy and benson. fake names and hemming and hawing over how many beds, at first. paying cash and dodging questions about who they are and who they are to each other. investigating each new place for bugs and amenities and sturdy locks on the doors. balancing on the mattress to disable the smoke detector. rooms too hot, rooms too cold. stripping off layers or huddling together for warmth. watching trash TV. ignoring trash TV. gun on the nightstand, smokes on the nightstand. shaking the shit out of the vending machine at the end of the hall. clothes all over the floor. candy wrappers and cigarette butts. showers with shitty pressure and short-lived hot water so they double up, just to be efficient. benson grabs the gun and watches through the curtains when it gets rowdy in the parking lot. randy catches spiders under cups and takes them outside. they take care of each other, protect one another. find hope and happiness amidst a rotating backdrop of bleak and grimy dead-end towns just like home. grow and heal in unexpected ways. they start to think the same way. communicate with fewer words. smoke the same brand. only get one room key. never go anywhere alone. wouldn't be themselves without the other. inseparable, halves of a whole, couldn't be any other way.