AN: So this took me a lot longer than I thought it was going to take. And thanks very much to everyone who reviewed and are kind enough to follow/favorite the story! It spurs me on to write more knowing that this story is entertaining to someone. As usual, R&R, let me know what worked and what didn't.

Sit Down - Chapter 4 - Inheritance

Dante stared at a picture of Lady's mother.

The woman was of slender frame, with a mass of ebony hair, elegant nose, a soft face, strangely soulless violet eyes and unsmiling lips. It was obvious that Lady had vastly favored her mother in physical appearance, with that goody-goody-two-shoes-look of a person who would make a stodgy wife for a preacher. But that was where the similarities ended. Kalina Ann lacked her daughter's consuming fire. There was not a mark on the woman's face. In fact, Kalina Ann seemed dead by that thousand-mile stare in her eyes. If it was not for Dante's respect for Lady, he would've described Kalina Ann as a ghoul in the guise of a human woman.

They were at the estate where Lady grew up. It was a thirty-something-room Victorian style mansion with acres upon acres of forest and pasture land. There was an intricately designed wrought iron gate at the front, followed by nearly half a mile of driveway before the mansion came into view. The interior of the house was even fancier and gaudy. Stained-glass windows, exotic furniture, woven plush wool carpet, high-end finishings, ornate chandeliers and many beautiful, breakable things decorated the main hallway and common areas. They had passed by the garage on the way inside. There were several polished luxury cars and motorcycles carefully parked, stacked and displayed in automatic lifts. It was obvious that Lady came from a wealthy family and knew a life without material want.

The affluence of Lady's dwelling stirred up Dante's own memories of childhood. He remembered a time of comfortable living when he was small. His childhood home was much like this, a display of over indulgence in the conveniences and eye candy that money can buy. The show of wealth was not so much to impress people, but that his parents spared no expense when it came to their children. For all the current troubles he had with his dysfunctional family, he did have a well-protected childhood with happy memories. He recalled play fighting his brother and exploring long, endless hallways with hidden nooks and crannies. There were birthday cakes, Christmas Trees, fireworks, heart candies and feasts for special occasions. He remembered receiving many hugs and kisses from loving parents. Those memories, as accursed as they were in respect to Dante's current circumstances, were the his pillars of right and wrong.

Then Sparda disappeared or died. Eva did her best without her husband and it was not enough. It all predictably went to hell.

Looks like he has more in common with Lady than he thought.

"Do you have to be here?" Lady asked plaintively. She was sitting at a large desk with a mess of paper and a ready handgun in front of her. A pen was in her hand. They were in a study of sorts, one of many rooms that could be counted as a study or a library. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The topics of the books ranged from the Greek text of Plato's works to children's board books. Dante's childhood home was like that too, with perhaps even more musty books and relics. His father, Sparda, had centuries to accumulate junk, after all.

Dante glanced over at her, recalling why they were even here.

Lady finally obtained Arkham's death certificate, which listed the official cause of death as bullets to the head. The city's coroner's office had been reluctant to issue the certificate directly to her, wanting to have a lawyer or a legal guardian as an intermediary to make sure that there was a criminal investigation. The coroner had rightfully wanted justice for a murdered man, for leaving a child without a parent. Lady had flatly demanded the certificate three separate times, over course of months, before she took the time to tell him why the certificate should be released to her without much fuss. She patiently explained to him, with her guns, that she took good care of herself well enough and would take care of the pesky coroner just as well she was not provided with what she wanted.

So now, with the proper certificate, it meant that she could finally take the next step in accessing the totality of her parent's wealth. That also meant a mountain of official paperwork that had to be shuffled. There were enough legal papers that did not really fit in a backpack while on a motorcycle or carried on a bus that stopped far from the residential area where Lady used to live. So Dante's car was volunteered.

"You only have a learner's permit. I can't exactly have you drive around without adult supervision," Dante pointed out. "You've already been pulled over twice. I don't want to have to bail you out of jail."

Lady's bi-colored eyes smoldered at Dante's comment, ready to start an argument. But at the end, she decided to let the perceived insult go. He wasn't exactly wrong. Just because the police call on them when a demon infestation became too tough to manage did not mean that a rookie traffic cop was going to ignore things like driving age. Both had enough encounters with the law to know that for them, it was usually three strikes before some sort of overnight jail sentence. The fact that neither had spent much time in jail was surprising really, considering all the theft, destruction and acrobatics they had performed with private property.

Besides, his comments had an implication to them. He would post bail for her to get her out of a tight spot, when he really had no obligations to be responsible for her. She wondered if he was this generous to every person he met.

Dante busied himself by looking the framed photographs on the walls, not paying attention to the sudden shift in Lady's mood. In areas where the walls were not covered by bookshelves, it was covered by photos. There were many photographs of Kalina Ann with other children who were at most, six years old. The children all smiled widely, many showing off their toothy grin and genuine love for the violet-eyed woman. Kalina Ann maintained her usual non-smile. Most of the children did not look like Kalina Ann.

"Who are these people?"

"My mother's students," Lady answered. There was a rustling of paper as she continued to sort the paperwork. "She was a substitute elementary school teacher, on good days."

Dante examined some other photos. He noted pictures of Lady's parents, pictures that showed Arkham smiling faintly at Kalina Ann, back during a time period when they probably liked each other enough to make a child together. There were additional pictures of Kalina Ann with national monuments in the background, still unsmiling. It appeared that Lady's parents were well-traveled and took pains to retain evidence of their exotic destinations.

He noted with a realization that he had yet to see a photograph that displayed Lady, or any other relative. "How come there is no picture of you?"

There was no answer.

"Lady, I asked you a question."

Still no answer.

With a shrug, Dante let the subject go. It was one of their unspoken rules. Neither will overly pursue a topic that either one felt uncomfortable with. Let the bygone be bygone. Lady had skirted around all topics involving Vergil. Dante made sure...well, he almost never ask her about her family. From the very lack of Lady's image in this mansion, it was probably a good thing that he did not.

Dante felt a little sorry for Lady, then, an emotion he was not used to having toward her. He had good memories of his beautiful and gentle mother. For what it was worth, faint memories of his father playing with him and his twin. There were so many memories of him and Vergil together, before their inevitable break. Dante knew and had experienced a love-filled life at one point.

From the display of worldly conquests in this one room, it looked like Lady was an inconvenient person to people who were overwhelmed with their own desires and problems.

"Are you the only child?" asked Dante, still trying to make idle conversation.

Lady shrugged. "I guess."

"You guess?" Dante followed up. "You don't remember if you have any siblings?"

Lady put down her pen and gave Dante one of her usual intense gazes, as if trying to determine if he was trying to tease her or was genuinely curious about the details of her life. She decided on a combination of both. "I was one of three live births among many that were miscarried or stillborn." There was a bitter twist of her lips. "Maybe my father sacrificed them in his quest for power. Since I was so lovingly spared so he would have enough blood to open Temen-ni-gru, I wouldn't put it past him."

Another uncomfortable moment ensued between them. Talking about the past never bode well for the both of them. He was reminded of his loss of family. She was reminded how she was fooled and used the entire time. Both held onto an idealized version of their mothers as the foundation of who they are now but at some level, they resented everyone in their lives.

He had to get out of there.

"I'm going to show myself around."


Dante took his time to go through the many rooms, dens, hallways and basements. Without Lady's presence distracting his attention and senses, he could detect something was enormously off with this place. This fancy mansion had the vibe of a quite a bit of violence and passion that occurred in the past. The faint scent of dried blood permeated regular rooms with the strongest blood scent coming from the basement. There was still police body tape down there, along with the stains of dried blood and whatever animal or human that was sacrificed there. Normally, a place with this much blood scent gave him a sense of thrill. His sword, Rebellion, which he carried with him everywhere unfamiliar, would sing in excitement. He did not experience his normal reaction to the blood scent, in fact, quite the opposite.

Dante took a moment to suppress a shiver that never came. The age of the mansion and heinous rituals committed in this place should have made this place a hotbed of supernatural infestation. Yet, the place was barren, sterile even. There was no malevolent presence as he would have expected. There was not even a ghost or lingering emotion in the place. He felt oppressed, like someone was stepping on his throat the entire time and he could not quite catch his breath.

No wonder Lady chose to live at a half-demon's bachelor pad rather than this place. Nude woman posters, pizza boxes and demon head trophies seemed almost tame compared to the repressive atmosphere of this place.

Despite the willies this place was giving him, Dante did spend some time in the formal library. Out of the many studies and room that had bookshelves, the formal library had to have held the same number of books as all the other rooms combined. The walls were lined with books and the area in between stood bookshelves. There were added ladders for access to books that rested on higher shelves.

He took the time to casually glance over the topics. His origin and occupation required that he understand the occult, no matter how trivial. Knowledge was power and despite his rather cavalier attitude to esoteric reading material, he was not so stupid to completely disregard the information held in them.

As expected, there were quite many books filled with much nonsense about demons, both fictional and factual. There was an extensive catalog of text on other supernatural creatures, from faeries to Bigfoot. There was even a small section about angels.

What was more interesting was there were some books exclusively written in demon script, a language that he instinctively understood, if he only spent the time to carefully study each character. The slow and tedious method worked on the demon equivalent of children's books, but anything more complicated, he simply had not the patience for. It was a lack of speed reading skill that he knew would one day, come back and bit him. He would have to ask Nevan or one of his other devil arms about the possibility of having formal training in demon language at some point. It would probably be good to study up on it in his spare time.

All in all, it was an impressive collection. Combined with whatever other books in this extensive mansion, the information here may rival the Divine Library. This may become useful in the future.

He'll have to convince Lady to somehow selectively preserve the information in these books, whatever she ended up deciding to do with her family's wealth. There might be a method to digitize some of the text, though even Dante himself had not quite figured that out yet. He knew that the written material of otherworldly texts tend to break anything electronic and interfered with traditional photography. It was so bad that digital watches would break when held close to demon script.

On his way out of the formal library, he took a moment to glance over the section about angels. He had always been somewhat curious about the opposite of demons. It made no sense to see that demons wreck havoc in the human world without a supernatural equivalent who performed the opposite.

Perhaps demons and angels were the same things. He certainly saw many statues of beautifully winged creatures in areas where people worshiped demons. Their faces were always grotesque skulls, though. It was also said that demons were simply fallen angels. It might be the reason why demons who took on human form always looked so attractive. Dante included himself in that grouping. He knew he was quite handsome in human terms. If he put some effort into it, he knew he could easily charm women and men.

All except Lady.

Of course, it did appear that she grew up in this creepy mansion. Perhaps that was why she had a hostile default to everything; she never knew how unnatural her circumstances were.

He saw a large encyclopedic book on angelic beings, and idly opened it. It appeared to be an illustrated tome on angelic order, from the lowly angel who protected humans to the burning ones who sang endless praises to God. Going along with the creepy theme, he noted that the illustrated drawings of the angels had their face blacked out by a ball point pen.

Oddly, there was a picture card wedged between the pages of the book, in midst of the text puke about seraphim.

It was actually a baby announcement card, something that Dante had seen advertised at the print shop of grocery stores. Seasons greetings and announcement cards like moving, graduation and births were the trappings of those who had the time and money to waste. It seemed like something Lady's wealthy parents would have indulged in at one point.

What a strange and random place to find something like this.

It was an old card, depicting Kalina Ann cradling a wide, violet-eyed baby. The Kalina Ann in this picture did not have the usual thousand-mile stare and lips tightened into a straight line that usually characterized her in the prominently displayed paintings and photos. She seemed alive, with that twinkle in the eyes and appealing smile that Dante had seen on Lady on rare occasions. There was a feeling about Kalina Ann in this picture that made anyone who looked at her want to do anything she asked.

He looked at the name and announcement date and frowned in puzzlement. The given name was Mary, so that was definitely Lady. According to the date, this card was printed about sixteen years ago which corresponded to Lady's confessed age. He was certain that Lady had heterochromatic eyes, with one red and one blue, not violet ones. Maybe eye colors change over time? Could it be a trick of photography or lighting? He did hear that the eyes of human albinos do appear either red or violet, depending on the lighting and the camera angle. Maybe eye color was not set in human babies. One of Lady's eyes was red in color. Maybe one of those eyes changed color as she matured.

Perhaps Lady was correct in her response to his question about siblings. Maybe Arkham really did kill babies. Maybe Lady had a twin also and that baby twin was sacrificed. His Lady just happened to escape by the luck of the draw and had the chance to grow up and become Dante's friend. His Lady had the luck of killing her own father and now picking off demons like a bad cockroach infestation problem.

It seemed almost an echo of biblical words of wisdom. The sins of the father continue to the next generation and the next generation. In their case, they had to and are still cleaning up their fathers' messes. Who knew what other screwy shit their parents were up to when they did not even exist and were now responsible for?

He frowned at the hand written text on the card, though.

It was in some sort of demon script, but not the kind Dante understood. Perhaps it was an unintelligible dialect? Perhaps the script was a nonsensical benediction? Demon script followed a pictograph system of written language, which made certain idioms completely incomprehensible to a half-demon like him. He touched the words with an index finger as if feeling the word written on the paper helped him understand its meaning.

The script started to glow, then the areas where he traced the words started to smolder and burn.

Dante quickly slammed the book closed, knowing that the lack of oxygen typically put out fires. He was a semi-pyromaniac as a youth, seeing how fire really did not hurt him all that much and it scared off the older foster siblings who wanted to pound on him.

Instead, the entire book was in flames. Dante dropped the book and stomped on it with his booted foot until the fire was put out.

He looked around once the fire was out, hoping that he did not accidentally trigger something weird, like causing a tower to rise out of the ground or accidentally caused an explosion and burn Lady's house down. Stranger things had happened in his life.

He looked at his finger and noted that there was a blister on his index finger. He had to stare at it for a full minute since for the life of him, he could not comprehend why he even had a blister. It made no sense. He could withstand impalement to the chest and still heal within second. This stupid blister from a spontaneous fire did not appear to heal anytime soon and it hurt.

He looked back at the book. The overly large tome was partially reduced to ash. Miraculously, the card was only half-burnt, preserving the picture. Some of the strange word, ones that Dante did not touch, were still legible.

What exactly just happened?


It took about a couple more hours before Lady came to look for him. By then, Dante had already looked at every room of the mansion.

Lady found Dante gazing out the window of a room at the far end of the mansion, away from the congregation areas like the receiving hall, den and living room. In this particular wing of the house, the blood scent was weakest here and completely absent in this tiny room. Outside the window was pastureland and a pond. Everything was still, calm and stagnant.

Unlike most of the extravagantly furnished mansion with heavy curtains and tapestries, this room seemed threadbare. The room was almost walk-in-closet-sized. The walls were white, without decoration. The bed was small, with simple white rough cotton sheets and comforter. There was a small bookshelf full of literary classics and children's stories. Instead of a warm soft lamp, there was florescent tube light installed. There was even a laptop computer. All in all, this room was coldly modern. The only softness of this room was the scent of sweet peas and orchids.

"You've found my old room," said Lady simply. She had found a white rucksack and from the shape of the sack, it was filled with papers. Separately, though, she carried a large brown envelope in her other hand.

That would've explained why this one room was so different from the rest. It had that white simplicity and scent that he had come to associate with Lady. "Why is it so small?"

"This used to be a servant's room," said Lady simply. She dropped the rucksack and envelope on the bed. The stack of paper was heavy. "In the past, servants were not to be heard or seen. So their rooms are always far away from the main wings of the house."

"Your parents would make you stay in this room?"

"It was my choice. The smaller the room, the less chance of monsters hiding in the shadows. This place is strange." Lady gestured vaguely to the center of the mansion. "I'm sure you've noticed it."

"It's as noticeable as being smacked in the face with a bowling ball," said Dante honestly. He had never been to a place that had such oppressive atmosphere. He grinned at her suddenly when an excellent idea came to mind. "Wanna pay me to investigate why that is?" Judging from the affluence of the mansion, Lady should have no problem compensating him well. Since they were friends, maybe she would be extra generous. He also wanted to make back the money he lost in betting against her rent money.

An eyebrow was raised. Seeing his playfulness, she made a counter offer. "If you want to play a game of dice over it, sure."

The grin immediately fell. "No negotiation, Lady. You know I have no luck."

"Then we can table the discussion for later."

Then, a thought came to him and fished out the half-burnt card. He was careful to touch only the edge of the card so he does not set his coat on fire. He still had yet to understand what had occurred so it was best to be safe than sorry. "I think I've finally found a picture of you."

Lady took the card with both hands. She glanced at it, a confused look flashed across her face. "I've never seen this before."

That wasn't too unusual, Dante reasoned. Parents were unlikely to show their children of all the likely embarrassing photos they've taken of their babies, leaving the cringe-worthy evidence for their adult children to find. Still, Dante had his own questions. "Isn't that you and your mom?"

She took the card with both hands. She looked at it, seemingly deep in thought. "I believe so. This is my mom and the name and the birth date are correct," said Lady. The baby in the picture did look like her, if she squinted hard enough. There was the obvious difference in the color of the eyes, but that detail did not appear to bother her. She fingered the charred edge. "Why is part of it burnt off?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. He decided to omit the part that it started burning after he touched it. He no longer had the blister to prove it. "Maybe there is some sort of ward on it. I mean, I can't even read the text."

It was Lady's turn to trace the strange, rune-like characters, her motion almost exactly mirrored Dante's own gestures hours earlier. However, the expression on her face was one of recognition. "It says, "blessed art thou amongst women,' the rest is probably burned off. I think it's a common Catholic prayer to the Holy Mary," she said, the last word almost came out as a spat. She still had an automatic dislike to her given name, directed at her or otherwise.

Dante raised an eyebrow. "You know demon script?"

"Is that what this is? It's certainly no demon script that I know."

Now that comment surprised him more than anything. "Wait a second, are you telling me that you knew all those squiggles in the books and on the walls of Temen-ni-gru?"

Lady shook her head. "I know some fundamentals, enough to understand the basic theme but not fully understand." Back to the stupid card. "This isn't demon script, though. It's something else."

"What is it, then?"

Lady shrugged. "I don't know." Lady seemed melancholy as she stared at the image of her mother. Finally, she sighed and idly stuffing the card in her pocket and crossed her arms. "And it doesn't matter, now. They're gone."

Another stab of sympathy for Lady struck Dante as he was once again reminded that she was in the same boat as him. Both of them were orphans. They were both children who were left behind by overly involved families to pick up the mess. They both had to learn early on to cut their losses and move on.

It was a lesson that lady had learned well and she already skipped to the next topic. She picked up the large brown envelope and handed it to him. "Here. I found this as I was digging through the files. I think you should take a look at it."

"Uhhh. Thanks." Dante took it. Lady was forever passing on information, whether it be crappy job advertisements or pizza deals. He opened up the envelope, ready to skim through the contents when Lady put a hand on his hand.

"Stop," said Lady. "It's probably best that you wait until you're alone."

"Err...any particular reason?"

"Because it concerns him," Lady said, stressing the last word. It was their code whenever they referred to Dante's most sensitive topic. "I'm not sure how some of the documents found its away into this house. But since he is no longer here, they belong to you, now"

That was right. Whatever used to be Vergil's was technically Dante's. Their inheritance from their father, Sparda, had finally made its way down, to Eva, Vergil and finally to him, the last surviving member of his family.

"We should go," Lady said before they both wasted time brooding. She had learned that having too much free time usually spelled disaster for emotional stability. It's always best to keep busy. "Can you go bring the car around? I want to bring along some stuff from my old room back to the shop." She gestured to the closet. "I'm running out of clothes."

"Sure," said Dante, moving to leave the room.

The young man made it halfway down the hall before pausing to take a peek at the contents of the large brown envelope. He quickly glanced through some of the letter-sized documents.

To his amazement and almost elation, he realized that these were formal documents like deeds, bank account records, even birth certificates. These were documents, that he realized as he became an adult, made life much easier in terms of obtaining social services and legal protection to property rights. Most of these were Vergil's and it made sense that his older brother had the patience to track down, or at least create forgeries, these documents from the ashes of their childhood. From the looks of things, though, most of these appeared legitimate.

There were pictures in there too, loose Polaroid pictures or otherwise. However, Dante knew better than to pull them out. There will be plenty of time later to ogle over these pictures later, when he wanted to take another depressive walk down memory lane.

He was curious, though. How did these things get here? Of all places? No time to puzzle that question out. Lady was probably getting impatient waiting for him.

He carefully shuffled the documents back into a more or less neat pile and back into the large brown envelope.

He proceeded down the hall little ways before realizing that he really had not learned his way around the place and was not sure where the nearest stairwell was. He paced quietly back to the room, hoping to get further directions.

He noticed that the door to Lady's old bedroom was mostly closed, opened only to allow a slit view into the room. Like a voyeur, he looked in between the slit.

Lady had taken out that picture card out again, a finger how tracing the cheeks of the mother whom she would never hold again. Her eyes seemed wet. Sighing again, she held it against her chest, as if such action could make her hold and feel the real person again. Her entire body trembled. With a free hand, she covered her mouth, trying to mute the irregular breathing sound. She blinked once, and the tears trailed down her cheeks.

Such scene reminded Dante of something similar he saw as a child. His mother Eva had cried when she thought the children were not watching, often quietly cursing their father for leaving them. As a child, he had been confused by her tears since tears were the product of physical hurt. He had wanted to go hug her and kiss her boo-boos so it would be okay. He never worked up the nerve to follow through with his human instincts. It was unmanly and he would get another scolding from Vergil if he disturbed her during her private moments again. Thinking back, he never did the opportunity again since his mother was murdered soon after.

That all too familiar human urge to calm down another human struck Dante.

He did not know whether he cared for Lady more than he cared for the women he liked to have his usual one-night-stands with. There had been many women who cried in his arms, for which he went through the motion of hugging them and telling them it was going to be okay. He had learned that was the expected behavior and it usually rewarded him with the woman's favor. He knew from experience that Lady would reject such gestures from him and might even earn him something painful.

But this was completely different. He wanted to hug her, not even for her favor, just that she stop looking so helpless and hurt. Strange how she always seemed so alive, strong and confident in face of possible death in front of a herd of demons. To see her be so vulnerable at a picture image seemed wrong.

Lady was so distraught that she did not even notice the door opening. She continued her struggle to kept steady her mental state as she felt arms wrapped around her, holding her head close to a firm chest.

"Why?" she choked out angrily. Lady had enormous control over the outward expression of her emotions, but her voice had a wounded-animal quality to it. "Why did she have to die? Why did my father do this? They were supposed to protect me!"

Dante was struck by those words. He had asked those same questions once upon a time, probably at about the same age as Lady. He recalled a moment of rage when he felt no control over his life and similar ambivalent feelings towards those he thought he loved. He blamed Sparda for leaving his family. He thought his mother weak and his brother a coward for taking the easy way out. The remaining humans who had attempted to help him along during his teenage years were simply greedy and incompetent. He knew that none of it was absolutely true, but at the time, those warped thoughts fueled that fury to live, to spite those who had failed and mocked him.

It must had been the same for Lady. Outwardly, she was driven by the altruistic mission to rid the world of demons. Inwardly, it was only for revenge and to sate an inner bloodthrist and need to destroy. To kill demons represented a symbol of control over her own life when she could never be completely in control, not when she was technically still a ward of the state.

There was a light brush of a forefinger beneath his eyes. The gesture so startled Dante that he let go of Lady, taking a couple of steps back. He quickly touched his own face only to find relief that his face was dry. However, he observed Lady look at her own finger speculatively, rubbing her forefinger and thumb together as if she had touched something wet.

They both looked at each other, then suddenly laughed and looked away, both suddenly feeling rather embarrassed.

"I feel like I'm going crazy," said Lady, scoffing at herself. She fell into her bed, burying her hand in her face, shaking her head.

"Nope," Dante disagreed, an ironic smile on his lips, "We're already crazy."

That comment elicited a sardonic snort. Why must Dante make sense now? Where was that womanizing, facetious playboy she was used to? "You must think I'm weak," she ended up saying, looking back up at Dante. All traces of her earlier melancholy seemed to have vanished. Her usual guarded resting bitch face returned.

"Aren't we all? At some point?" Dante asked rhetorically. "As weak as babies and no more than cannon fodder."

Lady's face twitched, somewhat caught off guard by the rather direct description of their own helplessness at one point. It seemed so...un-Dante-like. "You sound philosophical," she observed.

Dante shrugged. "We owe our existence to someone at some point. What if our mother decided not to have us before we were even born? Or let us starve to death as newborns?" His expression darken. "What if we are only alive because we are needed to open a demon gateway? Don't get me wrong. I know I'm special, in my own mind, and probably as insignificant as a bug to everyone else, until they need a demon extermination."

"You thought about this, a lot, haven't you?" she asked.

"That's why I say we're already crazy. None of this make much sense and thinking about it only makes it worse. So I don't think about it," Dante replied. Now it was his turn to shake his head, as if the act could knock the thoughts out of his brain. "You know what? We really need to get out of here. The atmosphere is getting to me."

"Yes. Let's get back," Lady wholeheartedly agreed.