Hell Hath No Fury Like A Dragon Scorned

This is only a partial log because my buffer wasn’t as big as I thought, and I’m an idiot when it comes to remembering to use the actual log function. For all of this, I apologize. I shall whip myself a thousand times with a wet noodle to appease you all.

Yasmira winces as the other woman's hand is burnt, a look of concern flashing on her features briefly and another wince screwing that look all to heck and back as she ducks somewhat, as if expecting more to go crashing than the crystal. She stares after the glass a moment before shaking her head a little and looking back to Madison, "You are alright, Miss? You should probably run it under some water. I got used to burns like that from wax. I did my homework by candlelight when young. It is not so bad when used to it. But..I am sure Mister Gabriel is real. I live in his apartment now. It's nice and big. Bigger two of what my house was in Mexico before I went to live at the school."

Rolling her lilac eyes skywards, Madison presses her plush lips into an almost reminiscent smile. "I've been to the penthouse once," she remarks off-hand before shaking her head gently and lowering her gaze to her hand. "I'll be fine, darling. I've played with fire often and long enough to not be afraid of a little burn. Granted, I hardly ever got -hurt- by said fire but I guess there's a first time for everything." A rather wary smile is now aimed at the young woman, the dull haze still residing in her eyes as she looks the Latina over. "Did you go to college or something around here? How did you find your way to this place, of all the places in Los Angeles?"

"Well…I…" Yasmira trails off, her full lips forming an unintentional pout as her brow furrows and she chooses her words carefully. "I am looking for my father. He came to the States when I was a little younger. Last I heard, he had made it this far and was working as mechanic in a bike shop. I have been searching bike shops since I came. The house burned after mother died. I couldn’t check the letter to see where from and don't remember the name of the shop." The pout remains as she frowns somewhat, glancing towards the door and wrapping her arms about her waist. "Now the plants creep and beasts conspire…the whole city -city of Angels I was told- is playground to demons. It has fallen."

The door to the stairs of the hotel opens as Markus makes his way through them. Adjusting his suit a little bit, he rotates his shoulders and stretches out his back. Leaning back just a little bit as he does so, when he returns to his normal stance he appears to be just a slightly bit taller due to his posture. His expression is rather blank, even as he glances over towards the two women. His eyes close for just a moment in a prolonged blink before they open once more and glance out the front doors of the Hotel. "Fuck nature," the man says quietly to himself in German before his eyes glance back towards the women.

Lifting her hand to her face, Madison peels back her lips to expose her fine, straight white teeth. Using these natural instruments, she peels off the hardened wax, all while staring with half-lidded eyes in Markus' general direction. Having relieved her hand of such an offensive material, the scarlet-haired woman then pulls the spots of wax from her mouth with her hand. "Is that him?" she asks the girl beside her without looking away, instead letting those amethyst eyes rove the suited fellow's body slowly. "It could be just a different demon, I suppose. Perhaps Beezlebub. The slot of Lucifer's already taken so we can mark that off the list," she murmurs in her purr of a voice while wiping the back of her hand on her leopard print dress.

The young woman's posture straightens as the man walks in and she dips a nod in his direction before looking back to the woman as the wax is pulled away. "Oh..no. That is not Mister Gabriel. That is Mister Freydstadt. He knows Mister Gabriel though, they are…a- associates." The last word is repeated with an almost exaggerated moment of difficulty as it takes her a moment before she can get the word to roll off her tongue properly.

Running his hands over the front of his suit, smoothing it slightly. Bending his neck to either side his eyes cast back towards the pair and he arches a slight eyebrow at the Latina woman. He seems content in staying slightly back away from the entrance of the hotel, but does advance a few steps. "Mmm…I wasn't aware that Mister Bennett's last name was Gabriel…" The man says softly as his eyes glance around the entrance to the hotel lobby. His lips purse for a moment before his expression relaxes once again, his eyes glancing towards Madison. He gives her a rather cool look, not quite cold, but not one that would be usually afforded to a person. His eyebrows shrug slightly and he stretches out slightly, rocking to the balls of his feet, before rocking back onto his heels. "Quite a nice night, hmm?"

Gesturing with the candle in the direction of the entrance that Markus had so recently utilized, Madison mentions with an almost bored lilt to her low voice, "Of course it has been because nothing's tried to plow its way inside from out there." Pulling the source of light back to her side, a light bubble of laughter erupts from her throat. "Of course I guess something could just…" she pauses, flinging her violet gaze obviously at Markus, "walk right in." It's then that she turns the brunt of her attention back to Yasmira with a toss of her head, "Maybe we're both hallucinating this, you think? Do you see a Nazi, too? Or is it just me?"

Almost at the magical mention of something walking in, Madison's words seem to stir a bit of a quaking in the building. The walls quiver and shake for just seconds, as if it were impacted quite hard, before everything falls silent and still again, leaving them all in the glowing candlelight of the room. It could just be another California earthquake.

Head canting to one side, Yasmira's attentions are pulled fully from Markus's initial comment, eyes attracted to the flame briefly and then Madison's facing her more suddenly, "A Nazi? I read of them in the history books. Bad men who killed a lot of people, but I don't know what they looked like. These books were dusty and had no pictures but drawings. They smelled funny," Yasmira comments before the shake, her hands shooting out to brace herself for a moment on nothing but air. "Oh no….I…oh my." Yasmira's hands dart into her waistline. One dips to a hidden holster in her jeans and the other to flip out a switchblade from her pocket as she starts backing towards the elevator. "Not…..good…." The words are heavily accented and wary as she stares at the doors to the lobby.

"Nationalsozialismus…" Markus murmurs softly as he looks down to the gloves on his hands. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Opening it, he then pulls a five dollar bill from it and holds it out in Madison's general direction, then looking at it, he slips it back in. "No, too much…" his words however trail off as the building begins to shake and his chuckles softly, "Oh I do love this city."

Taking a single step back, Madison finds herself pressed against the wall as her head jerks from side to side at the quivering building. An almost maniacal laugh bursts forth from her as she tilts her head back, staring hard at the ceiling. "Oh, buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gents, looks like it's going to be a bumpy ride," she shouts over the thundering, amusement still threading its way through her husky voice. As the evening once more falls into a steady stream of silence, her amused smile slips away to regions unknown and she flickers her gaze towards Yasmira, "I don't think the elevator's the best place to be in a quake, toots."

The Hotel California quakes again, once more brief, and then a third time to top it all off. Outside, in the clearing between the glass doors and the thick, urban jungle, a piece of cement can be seen to crash to the ground and explode into chunks and dust. Past that, things go quiet. A bit too quiet. The same tone of silence that is the calm before a gathered storm releases all of it's hate and energy back into the world. Then a splash of fire hits the ground, out in what can be seen of the ruined street. Just a single, almost drop for a lack of a better word, that is bespattered and spreads out over the foliage in a small area. Most of the green doesn't burn though, or give the fire anything to devour, and thus it smothers after a few heartbeats, and fades.

"Then the stairs….I must get back to Mister Gabriel's apartment. He told me to go there if things go wrong. Buildings shouldn't shake and…the sky shouldn't fall! That's wrong to me!" Yasmira exclaims as she bursts out into an almost comical panic, running for the stair. She closees the switchblade before the darting, but keeps her finger on the release for it as she does. "I trust nothing out there! This city has fallen!"

"Persephone is your name?" Markus calls out as he continues to take steps back, "We'll have our little name calling match later, or perhaps not even at all when I'm in a better mood." A snicker is elicited from the mans lips as he begins to head towards the hallway. He however freezes as the drop of fire hits the ground and his eyes narrow. It seems as if it were to spread he'd spring off in any direction just to get away from it, but as it fades he seems to relax.

A look of distinct disappointment colors the dancer's facade as she sees the fire do nothing to the foliage. "What the hell am I surprised for? Why would trees in HELL," this last word is shouted much louder than the others preceding and following it, "burn with a little bit of fire!" A frustrated growl emanates from Madison's throat as she pushes away from the wall with one hand, seeming oddly graceful and stable while perched on her high heels. "Okay, deal. We'll get the fuck out of here and then rip into each other with various insults and whatever you like," she agrees in a quick manner. "Wait, how in the hell do you know my name?" she thinks to ask even as she moves in his direction. "Come on, toots. Captain Psychic here seems the level-headed sort. Maybe we should follow him."

The building quakes with another tremor again, this one longer than those which had preceded it. The direction of the stairwell carries down the horrendous sound of hundreds of shattering windows, before a torrential outpouring of intense heat is forced out of the opening and washes through the lobby, leaving a lingering scent of sulphur. Spitter-Spat. Another splash of fire hits the ground outside, and then three more, all of which seem to douse themselves on the moist, very lively foliage that's sieged this section of the City of Angels.

The Latino girl seems hesitant to slow her roll, much less bring it to a stop, but she does so, pausing to look over the banister to the two, starting to talk as she turns and jogs back down, "You better be right, Miss. That fire doesn't look ver-," reaching nearly the bottom before the quake and blast of heat cause her to lose her footing. Her proximity to the bottom is enough, however, that she is merely cast sprawling on her stomach, gun skidding past her fingertips until she can scurry to her feet, grabbing it on the way and over towards Madison and Markus with an even more wide-eyed look thank usual.

"Oh -what- could this be?" Markus half mused to himself and out loud. He hesitate for a moment and then snickered softly knowing better. "Perhaps a volcano has finally erupted underneath Los Angeles to complete this little garden of Eden." With that, Markus begins to make his way towards the adjoining hallway to the lobby, and quiet quickly for that matter too.

Already the leggy woman seems to push herself into action, though she pauses a moment before stepping lively after Markus. Instead she pulls in a deep breath and turns around, extending a hand towards Yasmira. "Come on, we can't let the businessman outrun a budding warrior and a stripper, can we?" she intones, trying to put a light-hearted tenor in her rather worried voice. She waggles her fingers at the girl, adding, "We don't have much choice, girl. This place looks like it's being stomped on by a dragon."

"Dragon? But…but they dont' exist!" Yasmira huffs as she takes the stripper's hand, running with her and certainly not seeming to be in the best mood at the moment, "Just figures…just …just…" The young woman breaks into a rather emotional burst of Spanish curses before the words become coherent English again, "It's not FAIR! Papa should have never come to America! This country is being given over to Hell!"

Again, Madison seems to conjure up trouble with her magical words, and what has started with her utterances just seems to grow worse each time. What would seem to be at least the tip top of the building comes crashing down into the clearing, shattering cement and asphalt and crushing trees, vines and shrubs. It leaves what used to be the street looking like a labyrinth of man-made structuring. There is that silence once more, before a reptilian head slides down and into view, it's side as large as the whole row of double-doors that line the front of the Hotel California. It's black, and the scales hold a high gloss to them. The eye, as large as a Toyota truck, is narrowed into a slit of aquamarine as it sweeps back and forth, peering into the lobby and searching for something. It looks, as the stripper said, every bit the part of a dragon, right down to the crest of bone and flesh that crowns the elongated head, and the two rows of interlocking, sinfully deadly teeth.

Markus' eyes grow wide as he sees the thing. "Wha-" is about all that comes out of his mouth before he turns around and begins to run towards the hallway and then down it. His heels make a staccatto tapping as he darts towards his destination, which is ultimately down rather than up.

A scream rips its way from Madison's mouth as she grabs tightly to Yasmira's wrist, yanking the girl behind her as she starts to run as fast as she can. Her entire body trembles as she clomps down the same hallway Markus sprinted down, her chest heaving quickly with her sudden shortness of breath. She nearly drops her candle in all the commotion, though she barely manages to keep it from fully tumbling out of her grasp, just as she barely manages to keep from wetting herself in the process.

A cry comes from the Latino girl as well, but more from Madison's tight grip on her wrist as she runs after the woman. Both weapons in her hands go unused still. Switchblade in the left, still not extended and handgun in the right, loaded but not cocked. Desperate-sounding mumbled prayers can be heard in Spanish…at least anyone who knew spanish could tell they were prayers. A rather abrupt version of the rosary, as best as the young woman can recall it while running down a hallway being practically drug along by a stripper in five-inch heels with a dragon at their backs.

The serpentine head of the dragon-like creature shifts about, allowing that eye to continue it's search. It seems to narrow even more, slits glinting harder as it spots the retreating trio and their flight down the hall. Just as quick as it had come though, it pulls back and removes itself from sight again. All is quiet on the newly remodeled front of the Hotel California; at least for seconds. Another splatter of fire, plopping down, and then a veritable barrage of the dangerous substance, before the whole scene combusts into an inferno of heat and hate. Flames rain down, the largest gout striking the ground so hard that the sheer force rips the doors from the Hotel California and sends them over-ending across the lobby to smash into the walls. When the conflagration clears just a bit, the scene is left with a dotting of lingering fires, some outside, and a sparing few on the carpet.

As the silence descends, Markus' feet slow down. He pauses for a moment as he ears strain towards the lobby, his head turning slightly. His brow furrows as he continues to make hi way towards the laundry room, slowly now. "Shh…" he commands softly and tilts his head.

Huffing and puffing, the redheaded woman grinds to a halt with her charge in tow just behind Markus. Her wide amethyst eyes show only fear now as she can't quite keep her body from shaking. "Wait, wait, wait, you did not just tell me to 'sshhh', did you? Did you?" her irate voice rises with her fear threatening to choke her, pointing in the direction of the smoldering lobby with her candle. "Why don't you tell THAT to ssshhh as well and maybe go the fuck away while it's at it!"

The Latino girl still says her rosary in garbled Spanish as she manages to keep up with the redhead and still spout out the words in a way that just keeps rolling out to the point where she does not even seem to notice her own words anymore. The sound of her heart pounding in her ears is louder to her than her footsteps or her prayers.

Not counting the massive chunks of cement which jut from the asphalt like a twisted garden of statuettes, and the small fires that seem to mark across the new landscaping, everything seems quiet now. There's no more massive gouts of flame, or shaking buildings, or other unnatural phenomena.

"I'd suggest staying out of sight…" With that, Markus continues his way down the hallway. "Or do what you wish…" He then tucks into a door that leads to the laundry room.

Narrowing her eyes, the lissome dancer kicks a piece of debris down the hall in the same direction Markus strolled, raising her fist and shaking it in the air. "Coward probably has to dry clean the shit stains off the back of his pants," she states, her words laced more with fright still instead of anger. As if just realizing she had a deathgrip on the hispanic woman's wrist, she immediately lets go and takes a step back from her. She blinks a few times in rapid succession before putting her back to the wall and, as quietly as she can manage, creeping her way to the end of the hall to peek around the corner into the devastated lobby.

Yasmira follows after…not that she has much of a choice… until Madison's moment o frealization freeze her. As soon as she's freed and the woman's back is turned, her eyes survey the area until they find what appears to be the perfect hiding spot and she slips stealthily inside, not exactly eager to leave her hideaway or be seen.

A soft laugh can be heard from the laundry room, and Markus slowly backs out of it. He turns his head towards Madison and then makes his way after her. A soft smirk comes across his face, entirely predatory in nature. The way he walks gives the impression of a lion or a wolf stalking its prey. Both eyebrows arch upwards, "You call me a Nazi and a coward. I think that is quite enough for the night," He begins softly as he chides after Madison. His tongue slips out from between his lips, just lightly, as his upper lip is drawn inwards. Pearl white teeth then show as he lightly bites his bottom lip to complete the motion as if he were cleaning his mouth. "And you? What have -you- over me?"

Unwilling to be frightened out of her gourd by anything less than a dragon this night, Madison pulls herself up to her full height, with the additional five inches granted by her heels, to incline her chin imperiously at the suited man. Eyes made of lavender fire in the flickering light of the candle narrow at his approach. "Well, I guess for starters I didn't leave an innocent girl to be -roasted- by a goddamn dragon," she hisses with a curl of her upper lip. Pointing a finger in his direction, she can't help but to add, "A girl that knew you and seemed to trust you, of all things."

A soft smirk plays across the Germanic man's lips, something in it seeming inherently dangerous. "Oh is that all?" He asks softly, his head tilting and his eyes widening a little bit. "That you didn't leave a some-what innocent girl who seemed to somehow trust me and that I barely even met today?" A soft sneer comes from the man's lips as he watches the woman. "Was I in a position to do so? No, you were the closest to her, I was quite far away. Am I to risk my life for a person I barely even know? Mmm…no…" His lips purse a little bit, his eyes squinting slightly before he looks back to Madison with a cool gaze as if he were examining a butterfly about to be pinned to cardboard. "Now tell me, little girl…" The man begins, as he moves closer towards Madison his head canting to one side, his eyes narrowing just slightly once again. His hands come together in front of himself, his index fingers tapping against each other in rhythm to his slow steps. "Please -do- tell me, what -you- have over me."

Pouty lips curl into a purely devilish smile as she tips her head gently to one side, giving the German the hairy eyeball. So far she's managed to keep her ground, planting her feet solidly on the rubble-bedecked floor. "Excuses, excuses, Mister, ah, Freystadt, was it?" comes her questioning reply, though she doesn't wait for an answer before shaking her head lightly. "Tell yourself whatever will let you rest easier without emasculating you… sir… but the truth is still that, in a city very devoid of human life, you nearly left one to be burnt alive. On the moral ladder, I -do- hover at least one rung above you." She leans forward a bit towards him, her generous lips still holding tight to that smile, just as her mind grabs ahold of anything it can to ignore the beast from earlier. "How does it feel? A strung out stripper being higher than you on the ethics ladder?"

There is a bestial snort from outside, before a hot gout of smoke crowds the clearing. It dissipates rather fast.

A soft smile crosses Markus' lips as he watches the stripper. "Ethics and morals are all relative." Comes to cold reply from the man, as he watches the woman. A soft snicker once again is elicited from his lips, "You think you're so high and mighty, oh the stripper's victory for the day! She…didn't even really save a person." His feet slide out to a shoulder width's apart as his shoulders rise up, his back straightening so he comes to his full height. "But are you going out there? Are you trying to figure out what's going on? Have you braved the jungles yet? OR are you merely content in sitting here and letting ohers, like Mister McTiereney and I, to do the work for you?" With that Markus, once again, pulls his wallet. Unzipping a pouch he pours a few coins out of it, and then points to a pillar, "Go make yourself useful." As the cloud gushes in he turns his eyes towards it, and takes a step back, the same ever present smirk on his lips. "You just don't really do it for me, and what's to say I'm not like you?" He takes another step back and glances up, "Things fall down, so maybe you'd like to come with me?"

A shudder runs the course of Madison's body as she draws in a deep breath, clamping her teeth tightly shut on the beginnings of a whimper. Her eyes close for only a moment as she tries to will the ever-present terror away, though her low voice resounds before she decides to reopen them, "Matter of fact, I did. I went out about noon I guess, when the worst of those.. those things are asleep." It's then that she opens her eyes, glaring hotly at the businessman. "I evaded something that looked like a man and a bull and a horse all at once, and a group of trees hellbent on smashing me. I say that qualifies pretty nicely for your little who-has-the-bigger-dick contest, hm?" Now her expression turns outright suspicious, eyeing the fellow just in front of her, "Go where? And don't worry your pretty little head. I've had lovelier, and after that everything just kind of pales in comparison."

He continues to take steps back, "Oh, I'm sorry Persephone, you've been out -once-." A snort comes from his lips and he tilts his head slowly, "Laundry room, walk in freezer since the power is off. Somewhere that's structurally sound." He snickers a little bit and shrugs his shoulders again slowly, "You've had lovelier? As I said, Peresephone, -you're not my type.- And do you mean Mister Carmina? Shame you're not the only one he has. You're perhaps somewhat -secondary- to him." His eyes cant towards the edge of the hallway once more and he shrugs his shoulders, "Or stay out in the lobby. I'm acting out of self-interest, but are you going to act out of pride?"

A russet eyebrow quirks up as she looks completely confused by the name that's been dropped in her lap, one slender shoulder rolling in the vague semblance of a shrug. "He never told me his name, so I just call him Lucifer," she mentions with another small smile. "As with any rockstar or other celebrity, would you expect them -not- to lavish themselves with as much of anything that they could ever want? Besides, how is one to gain experience without, well, you know.. experiencing things." The graceful woman seems truly blase about the whole thing before she peers past Markus and into the laundry room. "Self-interest, you say? But I'm not your sort so what sort of self-interest are you talking about? And I'm not about to let a little thing like pride -kill- me. That would be ludicrous."

"Oh he's a celebrity? Quite, I've never heard of him. As far as the other comments, I see there's no aptitude test to take off your clothes for a living." The words are said rather dryly and flat. His lip curls upwards slightly into another sneer as he watches the girl, and continues to walk backwards slowly. "I ran out of self-interest. I am better alive than dead. It would have been a waste of time to run towards whatever her name is and grab her and then run away with her, and you for that matter. If that thing had decided to make its way in, we would all probably be dead, or hurt. Do you see the greater picture now? Or will I later have to draw it out." As he reaches the point between the kitchen and the laundry room an eyebrow arches. "Then again with 5 minute dances a pop I can see how your mind is set into the short-term."

Madison pushes off from the wall she'd been standing just in front of, her natural gait plus the heels causing her hips to swing in an exaggerated fashion. The ball of light coming from the candle bounces with her movement as she slowly follows the man into the laundry room, "You saw the size of that creature and you think it -wouldn't- come in here if it wanted to? Wow, there must not be any aptitude test to be a businessman either these days. I always thought those needed a -degree- of some sort," she chuckles low in her throat. "If you weren't so busy peeing your pants, you would have seen that it was obviously looking for someone or something."

The businessman motions down to his pants and arches an eyebrow, "Completely dry, and that is noted. However if it was hungry, I did not want to be its snack. If it wanted to carry something away, I'm not so inclined to be that something. If it breathes fire? I'm not so inclined to be invited to be the main course at its next cook out." Turning slightly, he pushes the doors to the laundry room and continues on just slightly. "I'm a different kind of business man, Persephone. I'm not the one handling stocks and bonds but I oversee the people who do."

"Oh god, middle management," mutters the buxom redhead with a sigh and a shake of her head. Still, the offer of solace from this wreckage must be a good one since she follows the man with every step she takes in her clicking heels. For a moment though her steps pause, almost completely in midstride as her head whips over her shoulder back the way she came. "My stuff is still in the kitchen. My purse, my wine, -everything- I have left is in that kitchen…" she heaves out a small sigh, "Everything that's important." Turning most of her attention back to the pied piper in front of her, she offers him a bland smile, "I guess I can get it in the morning when I can better see what I'm doing."

"Once again, Persephone. We're all better dead than alive. The kitchen is right across the hall, but the morning is only a few hours away. Expediency is not always the key," Markus says softly. He adjusts the brown leather gloves on his hands and glances up at her again. "There's probably left over blankets and pillows if you can find them. Make yourself a bed, or a nest, or whatever you wish to call it." He casts her another neutral gaze, and shrugs his eyebrows once more. "Shame you're a stripper and not my type. I could use another executive assistant or something of the sorts like Winston, just the opposite sex." His eyebrows shrug once again, and he makes his way off towards deeper into the laundry room. He however pauses, and turns around with a soft snicker, "I can't believe you actually tried to play the morals and ethics card on me. Your profession of all types. Business went down hill when they started teaching them so called 'Business-ethics.'"

The back of Madison's free hand is lifted to the bottom of her nose as she tries to mask a sniffle, completely missing some of the syllables tossed her way. "Yeah, it's unfortunate not all of us here thought to actually take the class," she responds in an equally droll voice once her hand falls back to her side, one eyebrow lifted pointed as she stares right at Markus. "I can only play the cards I've been dealt and sorry, honey, I got the full house tonight on that one. Typing really doesn't do it for me," she lifts her hand again to wiggle her manicured nails in front of the light of the candle. "I could chip the polish," she whispers, her voice dropping an octave lower before she breaks into a fit of laughter.

"Shame though that even if it could have won you a hand, it won't win you the game." Markus' shoulders rise up in a shrug, and he chuckles softly, letting them relax. "Although a four of a kind or a straight flush always beats a full house." With that, he turns around and makes his way back deeper into the laundry room, calling out before he disappears, "I require more leg work out of my assistants. If I wanted you to type I'd ask you to be a secretary."

Putting a bit more hustle into her stride, the gorgeous woman saunters after her current leader, slipping her way into the laundry room behind him. "I'm a professional dancer. You can't get much more leg work than that. Say what you want about the profession itself, but it -is- physically grueling," she chides softly, though her voice is somewhat distracted. "Oh and yes, do please keep reminding me that I should have opted to move to Vegas a couple of years back instead of sticking around Los Angeles."

"You should be fine here, Persephone." Markus says once more as he gives her a nod. "Well you might have some use still, even if you aren't suited for the business environment." He gives Madison a soft nod, "I liked your quips, they were entertaining…" the man begins and bends his neck to either side, "The notion about the Nazis though was a little…" He brings one hand up and tilts it from side to side, "Eh, not so good. Nor was the coward one. Everything else was pretty good." He snickers softly and stretches out.

"Business isn't the only career that's completely cutthroat, Mr. Freystadt," comes Madison's befuddled reply as she glances over at the man once more. "I think maybe before the building decides to tumble down a bit more I'm going to go rescue my things. There are necessary items in there that I don't want to risk losing. No sentimental crap, either. I really do mean -necessary-," she responds, suddenly adopting an entirely serious visage to her pretty face. She moves the candle from one hand to the other, wiping the newly freed one on her hip. "I'm sure you won't lose sleep if I don't come back and who knows," a faint smile twitches on her lips, "Maybe I'll come back just to spite you." Not waiting for any sort of a response, Madison turns on her heel and marches back out of the laundry room.

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