As Wales made the short trip to Nice airport on Thursday, Warren Gatland was the last to board the bus. Last one on, but now it feels like potentially first one out.
From the sea and sunshine of the French Riviera to the miserable rain of Rome, he might well wish he hadn't bothered to travel. It seems only a matter of time before a place on the bus is no longer his.
In the Italian capital, there was always the sense that Gatland, and Wales, were more than a little lost. As the rain crashed down in the Stadio Olimpico, the Wales coach, moving ever nearer to the exit door in one sense, struggled for literal direction.
READ MORE: Recent Wales captain Ken Owens turns on WRU with live TV accusations
READ MORE: 'We cannot accept this, it can't go on!' Jamie Roberts and Dan Biggar rocked by Wales shocker
Stuck in human traffic as he made his way up through the stands to the coaching box, he needed defence coach Mike Forshaw to point out where he was heading.
Just across from him, some of the Welsh Rugby Union's travelling party went to put white handkerchiefs on their seat, given the lack of cover from the conditions.
One turned to an Italian dignitary and, before a ball had been kicked, waved the handkerchief in a jokey fashion. Well, you assume it was in jest.
On the end of the row in the press box, a chain-smoking Italian went through cigarettes like they were nothing. Perhaps the tag of favourites was sitting heavier on some than others.
The expectation was that, more than likely, Wales would suffer another defeat to extend this miserable, miserable run. 1Thirteen in a row at Test level seemed destined to become 14.
490 days since a last win, it'll now be over 500 days before they taste it again. God knows how far above that number it'll go.
There's a helplessness to Wales in the last year that is tangible. Things just don't go right for them.
As Paolo Garbisi pulled out an inch-perfect banana kick to find touch from a ridiculous angle, all Ben Thomas could do was grimace as his team-mates had to trudge back after another territorial loss.
On the sidelines, Neil Jenkins barked orders and gesticulated about the kicking battles that Wales were losing. 20-odd yards away from him, squad member Ellis Bevan wandered around - looking for his seat in the stands with the help of a steward.
As the scoreline got away from Wales, the rain only seemed to get heavier, while the smell of smoke - as another journalist lit up - only grew stronger.
A week on from overplaying in Paris, malfunctions in the attack remained. Hospital passes were thrown as Wales went backwards to go forward, only without the second part of that ideology.
It all became a bit too much for Tom Rogers, with the wing slapping his hands together in frustration after another set of wild passes. Pulling Ben Thomas aside, the Scarlet had a few quiet words.
Moments later, from a tight pull-back pass from the Cardiff playmaker, Rogers put Wales through a half-gap and onto the front-foot. The result was nearly a score for Josh Adams, only for the ball to evade his grasp.
Having started it all, Rogers trudged back to the right wing, hands resting on his head. His stance wouldn't change as another chance went begging.
Three halves of rugby. No tries. Just three points.
To compound matters, making their way down from the stand, Rob Howley, Jonathan Humphreys and Gatland all struggled to find their way back to the changing rooms. Only the directions of Forshaw once again helped the Wales head coach reach the steps down from pitch level.
As the grim reality set in that another defeat was on the cards, heads bowed a little further at every stoppage. Rogers, replaced by Josh Hathaway in the second-half, stood motionless against an advertising hoarding for a while, watching the play unfold in front of him.
Hands on his hips, the frustration was over for him as he set out for the long and slow walk around the pitch.
Having looked a formality for so long, there was a brief moment where a 14th successive defeat appeared avoidable. Freddie Thomas reached out for the line, dotting the ball down. A comeback, perhaps?
One of the chain-smokers wasn't impressed, mimicking a crawling motion between drags to portray the Gloucester lock's double movement. Score chalked off, but Wales would get one, then another, as Italy imploded.
While Garbisi's orders fell on deaf ears as Italy collected yellow cards in a mad bid to snatch a draw from the jaws of victory, Jenkins offered up words of encouragement from the sidelines.
One last attack, from deep, to end this losing run - if only with a draw. The smell of smoke, as the tension rose, was at its strongest, with the rain still pelting Welsh bodies as they toiled for a way past 13 blue jerseys.
And then, with a deflating sense of inevitability, Wales lost once again. Jac Morgan, spent once more, lay there on the rain-sodden turf.
Keiron Assiratti turned away from the swathes of body and just stared at the ground for what felt like an eternity, before averting his gaze to the heavens.
As Italy's celebrations moved towards the sideline, Welsh players stood in twos and threes. Still with a sense of shell-shock, but also with an agonising familiarity of this very feeling.
Lost in Rome. And with it, a loss in Rome. Where next for Welsh rugby?
