"Right.Police dog." Staring into the room Cass has just broken into deep in the bowels of the Brimstone club, Veronica plucks at her lower lip. "Um. Not good."
Cass slouches against the door jamb. "So we smell like total fucking death and mayhem, apparently."
Charlie leans in past her, looking at the positively obscene array of firearms stockpiled from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, then glances at the dog, slightly mollified. "Well. That's all right, then."
Veronica pulls her back out and yanks the door shut. "No, no, definitely not good. This stuff almost makes back home look like a rinky-dink gun club. I don't think this is something we're supposed to know about."
Charlie sniffs and scratches at her nose. "She's right. We can file it away for later, but right now it's not our business. Cass, get it locked up again before someone spots us." She turns to Rex. "And you. Find the doc. No more damned detours."
He barks once and takes off like a shot as soon as Cass straightens, all three women hot on his heels, through the hallways and party rooms and past the stages, up and up and up until they reach the very top of the building.
The three women stand in the foyer ignoring the lone security thug, who ignores them right back as Rex circles around several times before haring off through a side door and down a much classier hall than they've previously had the pleasure to be in. It's also wonderfully deserted. The dog trots to the door at the far end and sits, waiting. Charlie digs around in her coat when they catch up, handing off the things she's managed to smuggle in.
"Just in case, here's your party favours."
Cass curls her lip up at the .22 pistol she's handed. "Chintzy piece of crap."
Veronica slips on the brass knuckles and makes a fist, her own letting out pops loud as a whipcrack. "I can be happy with simplicity."
"Damn straight."
The little scribe bounces on her toes. "Now let's all hope we walk in on something that will horribly embarass all parties involved."
Re: Gomorrah Morning - 4a/?
Cass slouches against the door jamb. "So we smell like total fucking death and mayhem, apparently."
Charlie leans in past her, looking at the positively obscene array of firearms stockpiled from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, then glances at the dog, slightly mollified. "Well. That's all right, then."
Veronica pulls her back out and yanks the door shut. "No, no, definitely not good. This stuff almost makes back home look like a rinky-dink gun club. I don't think this is something we're supposed to know about."
Charlie sniffs and scratches at her nose. "She's right. We can file it away for later, but right now it's not our business. Cass, get it locked up again before someone spots us." She turns to Rex. "And you. Find the doc. No more damned detours."
He barks once and takes off like a shot as soon as Cass straightens, all three women hot on his heels, through the hallways and party rooms and past the stages, up and up and up until they reach the very top of the building.
The three women stand in the foyer ignoring the lone security thug, who ignores them right back as Rex circles around several times before haring off through a side door and down a much classier hall than they've previously had the pleasure to be in. It's also wonderfully deserted. The dog trots to the door at the far end and sits, waiting. Charlie digs around in her coat when they catch up, handing off the things she's managed to smuggle in.
"Just in case, here's your party favours."
Cass curls her lip up at the .22 pistol she's handed. "Chintzy piece of crap."
Veronica slips on the brass knuckles and makes a fist, her own letting out pops loud as a whipcrack. "I can be happy with simplicity."
"Damn straight."
The little scribe bounces on her toes. "Now let's all hope we walk in on something that will horribly embarass all parties involved."
They don't. All they find is a nearly empty room.