He pushes the pill across his lips and chases it with mineral water, the expensive kind that costs ‡12.50 in the minibar. He settles into the recliner that surveys the telewall and waits for the trip to start. It does so without delay.
By the time the call girl pings the doorbell he’s already seeing things. She reads the pill bottle, does the math, knows she has an hour before he’s present in the room with her, so she calls room service and settles in. As she eats her sandwich he’s on the balcony watching the buildings opposite dance around.