Deep Exploration (OPEN)

[Corentine (DELETED 6472)]

The day started off in the sewers, with Cori hunting down Paladins and playing with the rats that ran amuck. Not actually playing, more like cutting off their tails and seeing the reaction of the disgusting rodent. Cori hated the fact that it amused her. As she made her way to the catacombs, she pondered about this amusement. Is something changing in her, with each passing day as a vampire, she wondered. As a human, she would never torture a rat, let alone get close enough to one. Cori’s friend use to have some pet mice, she refused to even look at the foul creatures. Rodents, they are walking death sentences. They carry so many diseases and such. Maybe that is why Cori was torturing them… she is like a disease eradicator, in her own way, of course.

While in the catacombs Cori began slaying zombies, mainly with her firearm. A head shot here, a torso shot there… seeing how many shots they could endure before falling. She knew that using her blade would work better, decapitation. It is surely the quickest and most effective way to kill them. Thing is, she wanted to watch the bullet hit them, she wanted to analyze what it did when it entered their decaying body.

This is where her thirst for knowledge began to take on its own form. Watching the round enter the body, watching the various spray…the direction it took. Seeing what oozed out of each orifice after the round entered, was not enough. She wanted more. Cori wanted to see the destruction at a deeper level.

Cori sat next to the corpse of a dead zombie. She had riddled it with bullets three minutes earlier, before a final head shot made it drop. “I wonder where I should start, maybe the head… I will start with the head.” With that Cori used her small blade to cut into the scalp of the zombie. She knew this was not a person and that it had been dead a long time, apparent by the decay that was present. With great skill she made a slice from the bridge of the nose, all the way to the middle of the back of the head. She cradles the decaying mass in one hand as she used the other to make the incision... After the cut was made, she used placed the blade next to her and used both hands to peel back the scalp of the zombie, exposing the skull. “Damn it, what the hell can I crack this open with.” Cori scanned her surrounding and saw a rock that may do the trick. With one quick flick of her wrist, Cori cracked the skull in two, enough so that she could open it up to look in. “No brain, not even any remnant of one.” What Cori saw was a putrid mass of a black gel like substance, the odor was rank as anything she has ever smelled before. Cori reached in and pulled out the round from the kill shot. It had made a huge hole in the gel like mass, a hole the size of a half dollar. “Interesting, I thought there would have been more damage. Maybe I will try hollow points.”

Cori sat back, “I wonder if anyone else has done this”, she thought to herself. She also, for a brief moment worried that someone may see her doing this. She had walked by a few of her kind, earlier but she never interacted.

[Stonehouse]

Grant Stonehouse adored the Italian al fresco café culture. He loved the way that the women would sit, chatting together, drinking an espresso or perhaps a glass of prosecco or a colourful Aperol spritz. They would undoubtedly all be adorned in fine clothing, whether it be Prada or Versace for the wealthy, sophisticated ladies, or Diesel for the slightly younger, cooler women. Glamorous sunglasses were the essential accessory, and overblown gesticulations were always the order of the day. The ladies would happily gossip, like cackling witches, about other women as they walked by, passing judgement on their outfits. It wasn’t just the women; the men would happily join in this pastime. Whether it was a group of middle-aged executives regaled in their Armani suits, drinking a glass of Chianti or Barolo with their lengthy business lunch, or a bunch of moped riding teenagers sharing a plate of cold meats and cheeses, they would all join in. Openly gawping at a passing female and rating her curvaceous qualities was hardly frowned upon, in fact it was almost expected. Men didn’t escape this scrutiny either. Were their shoes classy enough, their haircut fashionable enough, or their mobile phone modern enough? Everyone came under the microscope. People watching was practically a national sport.

It was fair to say that the sewer tunnels of Harper Rock were a far cry from the vibrant streets of Milan, and the underground caverns and catacombs were hardly the Piazza Navona in Rome, but people watching was still a particularly entertaining hobby, at least it was for the ever curious Stonehouse. Blending into the shadows, hiding away in the darkness, had almost become second nature for the once flamboyant corporate whizz kid. From the relative safety of blackened nooks and crannies, Stonehouse could observe the passers by and try to assimilate his new environment. It was as if he became invisible to the world, somehow shrouded in his own little bubble. Already, like some kind of scientist conducting an experiment, Stonehouse had mentally documented strange creatures that he could not explain, and humans (or at least he thought that they were humans) dressed in what was effectively battle gear. Armed and dangerous, and more importantly roaming freely, these were test subjects that Stonehouse wanted to avoid if at all possible until he understood more about them. What were their weak spots? Did they also seem to possess unexplainable skills or powers? Were they hostile or harmless? There were so many questions that needed to be answered. Despite all the weird and wonderful things that he’d already witnessed, the scenario that was unfolding just a few metres in front of him was definitely one of, if not the, most curious.

Obscured from sight in his blanket of fog, Stonehouse stared at a woman, perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties, hunched over a corpse. He couldn’t make out all of her features but her blonde hair stood out against the dreariness of the catacomb walls. She was hacking away at the head of the dead body - which stank like putrid flesh - with a knife, cracking open the crumbling skull with a rock. During his time at university, and again on several of his training courses with Elixir, the medical company that he had worked for back in England, Stonehouse had been able to dissect a human brain. However, those occasions were very much in the name of research. Whether it was to better understand the anatomy of the brain and relate it to human psychology, or to predict the possible modes of action of the various drugs that were being developed to combat neurodegenerative diseases, Stonehouse the scientist had no problem with justifying chopping up a human brain. Watching the stranger wriggle her fingers inside the skull like some kind of burrowing worms made Stonehouse wonder if she was also “researching” or simply amusing herself in some kind of macabre way. As the mysterious woman plucked something from the mush that was the victim’s brain, an ever-increasing urge to join in the ghoulish investigation began to nag at Stonehouse like an itch that wouldn’t go away.

His adventurous, inquisitive side was telling him to rush over and get involved, to quench his own curiosity, whereas his sensible, cautious side was reminding him that curiosity killed the cat. Stonehouse paused, deliberating with the angel on one of his shoulders and the devil on his other, before coming to a decision. A cat has nine lives… curiosity won’t kill them all at once!

Striding forward, Stonehouse called out towards the woman as she sat next to her trophy. “Well I guess that’s one way to perform a lobotomy.”

[Corentine (DELETED 6472)]

Cori digs in deeper into the cavern that is the beings skull. Searching for the round she shot, taking careful thought to also examine the trajectory that the bullet took, through the forehead and into the rotting mass of gel. She found the round easily, it was sort of suspended in what was the remnants of the beings brain. She dug in and retrieved it, throwing it to the ground.

Cori was engrossed in her examination, she did not even sense the stranger approaching from behind, until he spoke. “This is no lobotomy, Sir, it is research.” With that she stood and faced the individual who spoke. Her right hand reached into the small of her back, cupping her firearm. Her left hand swiped a small strand of blonde hair from her face, leaving a trace of the black putrid gel on her forehead. Usually she would care, but at the moment her focus was on the individual in front of her.

The feel of the steel in her hand gave her a feeling of comfort, she knew she was prepared if this person made a move. She stood with legs slightly spread, bent at the knee. This allowed her to move in any direction to evade or attack. Cori took a step forward, so she could assess the man in front of her. He was a slender build, yet athletic. He stood at about 6 ft. 3 inches, and was slightly overdressed for the sewers. There was something that stood out about this man, his eyes. They weren’t anything like she had seen before, in a human or a vampire… they sort of shined. Not being sure if it was the reflection from the dim light that shone from above or not…she quickly moved on from the eyes, but took a mental note, for later. There were no apparent weapons, none were being brandished, at least. Men usually like to hold their firearm in their belt, she always found that odd.

“How long have you been watching me?” Cori asked. She wanted to know what he saw and, by his answer…she would ascertain if he was going to run to an authority and squeal. That would not be beneficial and it may just stop her from participating, any longer, in her new hobby.

[Stonehouse]

The Jodrell Bank Observatory is located in the county of Cheshire, around twenty miles from Manchester. It is home to the Lovell Telescope, which, at the time of its construction in the 1950's, was the largest steerable dish radio telescope in the world. When Sputnik 1 was launched in 1957, the huge telescope with its 250ft diameter dish was the only one that could track the satellite's booster rocket by radar. Jodrell Bank was able to track the Russian unmanned moon lander, Luna 9, back in 1966, and listened in on its facsimile transmission of photographs from the surface of the moon. It was a real coup for the British press to publish the fantastic pictures before the Soviets had even made the images public. However, these tasks were just minor side projects. The immense power of the telescope was harnessed to observe astrophysical masers around star-forming regions, and to view the discovery of millisecond pulsars and the first pulsar in a globular cluster. The giant tracking device had even been used for SETI observations. It still remained unclear as to whether a young Grant Stonehouse first became fascinated in space and all things science fiction because of a day trip to Jodrell Bank, or the outing was actually prompted by his addiction to Star Trek and exploring the universe. What was crystal clear was that the Lovell Telescope, or even a basic pair of binoculars for that matter, wasn't needed for Stonehouse to be able to observe the accuracy of the woman's marksmanship. He was no more that ten metres away when he watched, silently from the shadows, as the skilled sharpshooter planted a slug in her target's skull. Stonehouse had witnessed the whole story unfold.

As he stood in front of the killer, only a couple of metres from her, the fact that he'd also seen the woman place the gun behind her lower back, perhaps into a holster, played nervously on Stonehouse's mind. Her shooting hand was currently hovering behind her waist, possibly already holding the gun, and Stonehouse was acutely aware that her phaser was not set to stun.

Stonehouse was unarmed, foolishly, as he had simply been scavenging in the underground network for items to add to his ever-increasing stockpile. Wallets, rings and watches stolen from oblivious passers by as a stealthy Stonehouse slipped from the shadows, were starting to add up. A collection of goods that were burgled from various factories and warehouses, ranging from boxes of alcohol and perfume to machine parts and chemicals, were stacking up rather nicely. Finally, there were the miscellaneous items such as old coins, medical needles, broken parts of weapons discarded during previous skirmishes, even the odd precious stone. Stonehouse was hoarding them like a dragon as he accumulated more and more worldly treasures, stashing them away in darkened tunnel recesses. He was sure that there were enough shady or downright desperate characters in this strange, godforsaken city to buy his junk. Business is still business; it's just the clientele who change, thought Stonehouse.

Building a business empire was not at the forefront of the former executive's mind at the moment, though. Creating the illusion that he was not a threat was his immediate challenge. Well, it was either that or bluffing his way into making the blonde woman believe that he was armed to the teeth and highly dangerous. No, the second option was out of the question, it was just a crazy idea. Stonehouse may have been tall and therefore, by default, slightly imposing, but he was no muscle-bound meathead, and intimidation was never going to be his best friend. Fighting was not his forte, but charm, on the other hand, was certainly his ally. Yes, option one was the path to take. After all, how difficult could it be to sweet talk an attractive woman, albeit a gun wielding woman that he'd just met in a dingy set of catacombs while she messed with the slimy remnants of her victim's brain?

Stonehouse sensed that the woman hadn't wanted anyone to see her handy work so he replied to her question in a softly spoken, non-threatening voice. "I've been watching you for long enough to be impressed with your skills. You could probably teach me a trick or two."

He paused, offering a gentle nod and smile in her direction to confirm his approval of the assassin's talents. It was the final splash of flattery in his charisma cocktail. Continuing to speak, Stonehouse added reassurance to his words. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about what I know. Your secret is safe with me."

[Corentine (DELETED 6472)]

Cori stood eerily still as the man in front of her spoke. She knew what he saw and knew if he was human, that he could report her. Aimlessly killing and dissecting a corpse in front of a human, was not what a newly turned vampire wanted to be caught doing. Her hands were covered with the black putrid liquid from her kills and her clothes were spattered with the same. Cori took another few steps closer to him, her hand still tucked neatly in the small of her back…gently holding her firearm. She had just acquired the new sidepiece, it was called Demeter. It surely had done its job for this eve, utter destruction of her targets, as seen in her autopsies. As she stood in front of this stranger, she thought about where she would shoot him, if need be. She would not make a head shot, right off… her cop friends always told her, it does not mean an immediate kill. Always shoot for the left side of the torso… as this would drop the mark to its knees. Cori then thought about slicing this well dressed gentleman, from neck to naval… in one clean slice. Then the fun would begin, reaching her hands in the body of a warm being…possibly still seeing the blood flow through the veins and arteries. She would surely get dirty… she may even have a small snack. As soon as those thoughts entered her mind, they left. Not sure if it was the look in his eyes…that apparent shine… but those sickening thoughts went back to which they came.

“I would thank you for your kind words, Sir… but how can I be sure that you will keep this a secret?” With that Cori stepped even closer to the man… she smelled the air to see if she could get a sense of his humanity… nothing. Could he be like her, a vampire? He did not look like the others she had seen mulling about, not even close. This one was too polished, surely refined. She could not even picture him sinking his fangs into the neck for a meal… he looked like the sort that would have another do it for him, all with a snap of his fingers. She did sense a faint scent...but could not quite place it. She thought it may be Gucci or Chanel, something expensive…but she could not quite place it. A few of her lawyer friends had put her nose to the test one day. She was asked to tell them her favorite scent. With over 15 bottles of expensive cologne in front of her, she became familiar with them all. Without hesitation, Cori asked “What scent are you wearing?”

It is not like Cori cared too much, but the answer he gave allowed her to assess the situation more… his response would either be to come at her in an attack, or he would laugh over the ridiculous question that a stranger had asked him… deep in the underground of Harper Rock.

[Stonehouse]

What scent are you wearing? Really? Of all the questions that the woman could ask, was that one really so near to the top of her list? Her initial question about trusting him to be able to keep a secret made sense to Stonehouse as soon as it left her lips. He'd probably want to know the same if their roles were reversed. But his scent? It was clear for anyone to see that the lady was attractive and looked after herself, and the tidy cut of her hair gave the impression of a fashionable and stylish individual. Those traits pointed towards a smart, professional character, so perhaps expensive men's fragrances would register with her almost immediately. Maybe she was also checking my suit and shoes, thought a puzzled Stonehouse. However, her blonde locks were currently smeared with gungy brain matter, as were her clothes, which pushed the potentially classy and sophisticated stranger well and truly into the possible psychopath category.

There were contradictions oozing out of the mysterious gunslinger quicker than the slimy brains had gushed out of the corpse's skull when she had cracked it with the rock. Stonehouse was particularly intrigued that she had focused upon his aftershave. Did she posses an especially acute sense of smell? That would be a great attribute for a hunter... for a killer. The fragrance was Allure Homme Sport by Chanel; freshly pillaged from a cosmetics and toiletries warehouse only the night before. Stonehouse had managed to escape the storeroom with three boxes of perfumes and aftershaves, and had been delighted with his haul. He was sure that he could shift the job lot in some dodgy backstreet, or perhaps a dark corner of a bar or pub, but he’d kept a couple of bottles for himself to try and rid his body of the stench of the underground. The raid, or more to the point his loot, had reminded Stonehouse of a vacation that he and a few of his old university friends had taken after finishing their degree courses. The boys’ holiday to the beach resort of Marmaris in Turkey was effectively a weeklong piss up. The days consisted of lounging around the hotel pool eyeing up bikini clad girls, and the nights were spent trawling the local bars and clubs, fuelled by an excessive number of alcoholic shots, trying to score with the numerous partying girls, who also weren’t wearing much more than bikinis. During the few hours of the day that the hung-over “lads on tour” had managed to venture out into the markets and shopping areas of the town, they had encountered what seemed like an infinite number of traders selling fake goods at cheap prices. There were knock-off Armani jeans, Gucci handbags, and Rolex watches, all at ridiculously low prices. Although it was clear to each and every holidaymaker that they were inferior copies, the tourists would snap up the bargains and undoubtedly claim that they were genuine when they returned home. One particular group of dodgy goods that caught the attention of a fairly broke Stonehouse was the aftershaves. Why pay £50 back in England for the real deal when the Turkish Lira equivalent of around £10 would get you a damn fine copy, right? The traders were clever, aware of possible prosecution from the authorities, and gave their items slightly different names to keep them out of the reach of the law. There were several “Kalvin Clein” fragrances, but the one that caused most amusement was “Channel No.5”. The UK’s most recent free to air terrestrial TV channel was Channel 5, but the joke seemed lost on the bemused Turkish storeowners.

Sadly, this was not the time for reminiscing about drunken holidays; it was a time for dealing with armed killers, specifically the one standing in front of him, waiting for his response to her questions. Stonehouse smiled politely and exaggerated a huge inhalation, as if he were smelling his own scent. “My scent? Oh, it’s a French-Canadian cologne called Le Sewer; it’s an eau de toilette, literally.”

Stonehouse didn’t wait for a reaction, but instead chose to plough on, hoping that the woman wouldn’t try to shoot him simply because of his sense of humour. “Actually I…” he paused momentarily, choosing the most fitting word. “I procured some Chanel. It’s Allure Homme Sport.”

He gave another welcoming smile, ensuring to main eye contact with the stranger. “So now you know my secret scent. I trust that you won’t tell everyone, otherwise they’ll all want to smell like me.”

Raising his hands up slightly, palms facing upwards to emphasize just how unarmed he really was, Stonehouse concluded his response. “You can trust me to keep your secret now that you know mine.”

[Corentine (DELETED 6472)]

Cori had no intention of smiling, none at all… yet his words and how they had a latent hint of sarcasm, made her laugh. “Aren’t you an amusing one?” she said with a smile. Cori released her grip from her sidearm and took a few steps closer to the well-dressed man. “I had an idea it was Chanel, I just wanted to make sure. I am sure you found it odd that a strange woman is asking you about your cologne, while we are deep in the underbelly of the city.” Cori did not care much for his response, she just had an internal need to lighten the situation, one that she made a bit tense by almost shooting the stranger in the chest. It would have been a shame to ruin that shirt of his, so nicely ironed.

As Cori got closer to the man, she analyzed. There is no firearm present, maybe a blade but she could evade if need be. She was sure he would be taken down quickly, he did not look as if he was a challenge. As those thoughts circled in her head, she could not pull her gaze from those eyes. It was if they shimmered, dare she say sparkled. Certainly not like the Twilight vampires do…it was a different kind of shine. It was then that her guard came down, for a brief moment… “My name is Cori, thanks for vowing to keep my secret. I will surely keep yours.” She took her right hand, and wiped off any remnants from her kill onto her jeans...then with a quick movement stepped forward again almost reaching out her hand..but stopping. “Can I ask what you are doing down here? Do you usually spend time dressed like that, in places like this?”

Cori's first instinct was to reach out her hand...a casual handshake would do for this sort of meeting. She recalled vividly, that Trahir did not like her touching anyone at the party the other night... he surely would not like this. Cori gave the man in front of her a small smile and brought her left hand to her hip. It made her feel more comfortable having her hand closer to her blade...just in case. Maybe she was preparing for the worst case scenario with the man, or maybe…she had a small amount of fear. He seemed too calm, too put together.

Insight into character comes from listening intently to the spoken word. The physical person, their charisma, charm and dramatic flair is more often used to persuade audiences, as they use these stealth tools of disguise and deception.
Maximillian Degenerez

[Stonehouse]

On a normal day it would be perfectly reasonable for Stonehouse to think that an armed woman enquiring about his aftershave while hidden in the depths of the city’s stinking sewers was, at the very least, strange. However, on a “normal” day, the suit-clad businessman wouldn’t find himself wandering around in a dank underground network of tunnels witnessing executions. It was fair to say that there had been no normal days lately. If this was now his new normality, then surely he had transformed into some kind of Alice in Wonderland character who had descended into a very deep rabbit hole. Perhaps he was the Mad Hatter? Stonehouse loved tea and right now he would kill, probably literally, for a hot mug of Twinings Everyday Tea. He was also partial to a cake with his drink, so maybe he was the Knave of Hearts, accused of stealing the jam tarts? Was the woman in front of him the Queen of Hearts? Was she about to reveal her knife and shout “Off with his head” before lashing out and decapitating him? After all, Stonehouse had seen her scalp the corpse only moments earlier in order to expose its skull, and was well aware that her left hand was loitering dangerously close to where he’d seen her replace the blade. Stonehouse was very much the underdog in this encounter, even if the woman hadn’t quite realized it yet. She had the Queen of Hearts and Knave of Hearts in her hand, along with the King, the Ace, and the Ten. Stonehouse, his feet standing in dirty sewer water, had nothing more than a busted flush. Perhaps he had been unwise to go chasing white rabbits, well, a blonde one.

“It is perhaps as odd for you to ask me about my cologne” said Stonehouse, “as it is for me to see an attractive woman using creepy creatures for target practice.”

As Stonehouse extended his hand to introduce himself, he sensed an air of uneasiness from the woman. “I’m delighted to meet you, Cori,” said Stonehouse enthusiastically. “My name is Grant.”

There was definite hesitation from the woman, and Stonehouse’s hand seemed to linger in the space between them for far too long. “I’m down here trying to acquire items to sell,” continued Stonehouse as he slowly began to retract his hand. “All kinds of treasure can be found if one knows where to look.”

He made sure that he held her gaze as he emphasized the word “treasure”.

[Corentine (DELETED 6472)]

Cori knew that he was waiting to shake her hand… and every part of her knew that it was an appropriate social gesture. She faded back to the night that Trahir saw her greet the two vampires in Andras… and those were family. He surely would not appreciate her touching anyone in the sewers… especially a man like this.

Cori holds out her hands, as well… showing him the top and underside of both. “My hands are covered in nasty zombie stuff, I would not want that to get on your suit.” What?… stuff did she just use a word like stuff to describe the nasty, putrid fluid that came from the zombies? Why did descriptors always choose the worse time to go AWOL? Cori nods and smiles at the man,” It is a pleasure to meet you, Grant.” With that Cori steps another step closer. “So you scavenge? It doesn’t quite seem the sort of thing someone like you would do? As far as my interest in your cologne… it can tell a lot about a person, even more so than ones hobby of slicing into dead things.”

Cori knew it was getting late, Trahir would be wondering where she was and the sun would be rising soon. She should have just said farewell to the man and left, but something kept her there. “So Grant, I am interested in what you do in the sewers… maybe we can discuss it over a drink? There is a bar real close, not a lot of foot traffic there, either. If you care to continue our conversation, there… I would ask you to give me some time to change into attire that does not smell of rotten flesh.” Cori knew that this was very forward, even for her… but something told her that this “scavenger” had a different story to tell and Cori’s need to satisfy her curiosity, always got the better of her.

“Contrariwise,' continued Tweedledee, 'if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

[Stonehouse]

It wouldn’t take a master of reading body language, or an ace student of psychology, to perceive that the mysterious blonde woman had secrets, and several of them. For a starter, she was practising her shooting skills hidden away in the catacombs where nobody would be watching, and she was incredibly concerned that Stonehouse had witnessed her ghoulish pursuits. Murder and instant dissection were undercover operations that should be hushed up. There was a definite reluctance to accept his hand of friendship, despite her claims that it was simply down to not wanting to tarnish his suit. It was the way that she stuttered, as if she were forcing her hand to remain by her side and not connect with his. Perhaps she was simply shy? Maybe she had been dwelling down in this underground labyrinth for too long and had forgotten how to converse with people? No, no that can’t be right because she wants to meet up for a drink and discuss matters further, in a public place, where “normal” people go. Stonehouse struggled to get to the bottom of the perplexing person who stood before him. He could almost feel the cogs of his brain grinding together as they tried to make sense of the situation.

An increasingly curious Stonehouse had no option but to accept her invitation. He wanted to find out more about the secretive sharpshooter. There was also the exciting possibility of learning a few skills from the woman. Could she be persuaded into training him with firearms? There were many vicious creatures lurking in the depths of these tunnels, and a proficiency in weaponry would be invaluable. The thought did cross his mind that this femme fatale could be the most dangerous creature that he’d encountered so far, but that was the gamble that he would have to take in order to unlock the puzzle.

“Oh, I do a lot more than scavenge,” announced Stonehouse triumphantly. “I also steal, pickpocket, burgle, rob, thieve, you name it, I do it. And that’s only in the first hour of my day.”

Stonehouse offered her a wry smile, acknowledging that his “talents” were nothing to be proud of. “I spend the next few hours selling the goods so that I can afford to go out with classy ladies who I meet in the undergound world of Harper Rock.”

A slightly uneasy exchange of glances followed before their conversation appeared to conclude. “I’d love to continue our conversation, and I look forward to meeting with you later, Cori” said Stonehouse politely.

He did wonder how he was suddenly going to magic up some additional clothes for his little soiree. The suit that currently hugged his frame had become a little rough around the edges, and the only available alternative attire was basically stolen factory wear and clumsy work boots. Hardly fitting for a date. Wait, what was he thinking? This was clearly no “date”. At best it was a business meeting, at worst it was a suicide mission. Was he about to become the fly, heading straight into the spider’s web? Stonehouse knew that he would need to approach the meeting with extreme caution, and approach a clothing shop with extreme haste.