II. Or I’ll Huff and I’ll Puff and Blow the Door Down…*

Ran sat on the bed tightening his grip on his "walking stick" as Schuldich paced around the room nervously. The locked door of the room bulged out every now and then. The muffled voices outside, raised in anger, were only too audible at times.

"Ran, Schuldich, you miserable cretins…open the damned door… We know you're in there…" Crawford yelled, voice moderation forgotten in his rage.

"How did we get into this situation?"

Right after Ran had discovered that it was really Schuldich crawling all over him. The locked external door of the suite had started to bulge from the outraged indignation of the “wronged” parties. It seemed that Crawford had had a vision that made him scramble posthaste to return to Tokyo from what they had glimmered from their telepathic abilities. He barely took the time to check himself out of the airport and took the time to pick up Farfarello as reinforcement. In panic, since their two significant others seemed a bit less than of a rational frame of mind, they had retreated to the bedroom and now was waiting nervously for the two to breakdown the door as the latter had done with the hallway door. Except now Ran had pulled out his swordstick from where he had hid it slung crosswise on his back in readiness. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight, from Ran’s stance Schuldich knew that the other would try knocking some sense into the two before surrendering to the inevitable.

"Hn." The accusation was compounded by a death glare.

"Hai, I know it was my fault but since you're so innocent of the crime, why don't you talk sense into them."

A growl rumbled through the door followed by a string of blasphemous curses derived from the Bible. That was Farfie, hurting God as usual.

His fellow redhead just snorted.

"Like they would care at the moment. Right! So what do you suggest? Wait for them to expend their rage on the door, then try talk to them?"

What options do we have? Face it Schuldich, you could have chosen a worst place to escape if you tried. Twenty-two stories up, no windows directly below and facing the street rather than the pool, what were you thinking? That you could have pulled it off without Crawford getting wind of it? And you weren't able to score before you were interrupted too… *** * - From the fairy tale “Three Little Pigs”. Seems very appropriate…^__^

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