The site of the Nosferatu meeting is a motel: a two-tier sprawl spread over a cracked asphalt lot, bare but for a couple of sex-workers catching a short break. The main building is painted a stale yellow colour made even uglier by the dingy light shining down on the parking lot.
Anton Flores stands against a ground level door, casually dressed as he looks out for Dirge, confident that his curse will lead her in his direction. He's booked the room above and the adjacent pair, too. As he waits, he pushes a disquieting pulse out from within, keeping the trickle of illicit trade on edge.