His objective aborted, Aya raced down the fire escape recklessly, wrath-driven until stricken off balance by a sound out of place. It shouldn't have stayed his progress, yet the clear ringing tones pierced painfully from above.
Gripping his katana for focus, he redoubled his effort to reach the next landing down; after this, four more, then rendezvous and extraction.
Around the next corner: a vivid mane, languidly lounging form, foreign face upturning to grace him with an insolent grin, eyes sparkling.
Blushing stains bright as wounds appeared on Aya's cheeks; he halted in insulted shock while Schuldig's laughter struck again.