The Felt mansion was absolutely enormous; at least, it had been when Ms. Paint had first arrived. The entire thing, from the obnoxious green exterior to the ridiculous number of incessantly ticking clocks within, had intimidated her. But these days, Ms. Paint walked confidently through the doors of the mansion, the Felt's muscle trailing behind her as though they were her personal bodyguards. Not that she needed bodyguards anymore.

Cans and Matchsticks disappeared to their respective rooms right away, Crowbar giving Ms. Paint an approving nod before he did the same. With a self-satisfied smile, Ms. Paint put her gun away in the hidden weapons closet close to the door and shed her huge fur coat, revealing one of her favorite dresses: a sparkling silver one, just a few shades darker than her own pearly white carapace. She would have liked for Slick to see her in it; unfortunately, their encounter had been too brief, and it seemed like he didn't remember as much about her as she would have preferred.

Ms. Paint ghosted through the corridors of the mansion, habitually checking the time whenever she passed a clock, which was almost constantly. She'd always been a pretty punctual person, but with one thousand clocks to keep her company, she was never late.

She finally came across the door she was looking for, labeled with a curvy black 8. She knocked confidently on the door, listening closely. From within, a low, smoky voice called, "Come on in, Little Sn0w."

Ms. Paint turned the knob and opened the door slowly, peeking in at her mentor. Sn0wman was sitting comfortably on the edge of her queen-sized bed, her long legs crossed and a hazy film of smoke floating above her head. She offered Ms. Paint the small, almost sarcastic smile that meant she was glad to see someone.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked, beckoning Ms. Paint in further. Once afraid of the intimidating Dersite woman, Ms. Paint now was able to comfortably stroll up to Sn0w and sit beside her. She kicked her feet a bit, her legs not quite reaching all the way to the floor.

"He…didn't seem to remember me too well," she admitted. Her eyes didn't meet Sn0w's, though she could feel the questioning glance that had been turned her way. "I mean…well, he remembered me, but not all that fondly." Her voice got quieter as she muttered the last part. "He said he'd stick a knife in whoever called themselves your friend."

Sn0wman let out a bark of laughter that startled Ms. Paint into looking at her mentor in confusion. How was that even remotely funny? Ms. Paint had truly hoped that Slick would remember her as fondly as she remembered him…though, if she were being honest with herself, she wouldn't have expected her encounter with him to go any differently.

"That sounds like Slick," Sn0wman laughed, putting an arm around Ms. Paint's shoulders. "You see, Little Sn0w, Slick is always trying to get everyone to think all he wants to do is kill people." She thought for a moment, then added, "Sometimes, all he does want to do is kill people. But sweetie, I'll tell you right now he isn't worth worrying over. We have bigger fish to fry than Spades Slick and his silly little Crew. You meeting them was just to keep them off the trail, and if I know Slick, you did a pretty damn good job."

Ms. Paint allowed herself to smile at the compliment, but deep down she was thinking about the time she'd first met Slick. Back then, he'd just been an injured Dersite; someone for her to help. It'd soon grown into much more than that for her, but if she was going to help Sn0wman, the carapacian who'd taught her how to protect herself, she was going to have to suppress any feelings she still had about Slick. Whether she wanted to ignore those feelings was a completely different matter.

"Thanks, Sn0w," Ms. Paint said softly. Sn0wman nodded and patted Ms. Paint's shoulder, taking a drag on her cigarette.

"Of course, Paint," Sn0wman replied easily, breathing out the smoke in long, languid puffs. She stood, signaling that their little meeting was over. She smiled at Ms. Paint again, this time a little softer and more genuine. "Hey, Little Sn0w, I know how you feel, believe me. But trust me when I say that Spades Slick isn't the only fish in this cesspool of an ocean. You can do much better."

Ms. Paint just nodded again. Sn0wman was right; she was almost always right. And anyway, she had known Slick so long ago...and it wasn't as though he was the one who had taken her in, taught her how to defend herself in this violent world, gave her something to do with her life. That title belonged to Sn0wman, and Ms. Paint had every intention of helping Sn0wman with her designs as best as she could, red feelings notwithstanding.

She hopped off the bed with a smile, chirping a short "good night" at Sn0w. As she wandered down the hall to her own room, she tried to imagine what Slick was doing now. A smile formed on her face; whatever he was doing, no doubt it was angry and consuming all of his time and attention.

That tendency was something she loved about him.