The quarry is still up, sending Emails on his laptop at the desk. He yells for help. The Werebear advances rapidly and breaks his neck with a quick hammer punch. 

As the Werebear he starts back down the hall, people are looking out doors, screaming, and calling hotel security or 911. He snarls at them for effect, continuing to move quickly. Even back around the corner, away from the clamor, a woman sees him enter his room. 

This is not at all the scenario Hilton had wanted. The Werebear quickly puts together a must keep kit with Wax and Wane vials, clothes, car keys, and wallet in a watertight plastic bag secured to his waist. 

Eighteen floors is far too high for even the mighty Werebear to jump. He goes onto the balcony and drops to the balcony below, then hand-over-hand like a gibbon, to the next, and the next. When he is three floors above the water he does a long dive out, far enough to hit in deep water. 

The Werebear can swim well under the surface, and this he does, popping up occasionally to scan the shore. The water is cold and dirty. Finally, he finds a place with a tree for cover, where he can change back to human form and get dressed. He forgot about having to dry off, but the piece of paper towel he always carries in his slacks for an emergency sneeze, assisted by a light river breeze, gets him dry quickly, if not feeling perfectly clean. This all takes eight minutes. 

Hilton can hear the sirens converging on the hotel. He combs his wet hair back, and emerges from behind the tree like Clark Kent exiting an alley in Metropolis. Being the Werebear always leaves him hungry for meat, so he walks briskly to Jake Wirth’s for a rare prime rib before heading home. 

On the drive back Hilton’s frugality begins to haunt him. That really was a nice hotel room. What a waste of money to check out so soon.