Ryah was grateful for the change in subject. He couldn't help the relief the cascaded through him, though there was a strange little twinge in his lower belly at the same time. Almost as if he were disappointed... except that made no sense at all. What was there to be disappointed about? He kept his eyes firmly averted as the other male got dressed, fiddling with his gun and making sure it wasn't jammed, before heading for the stairs, trying to keep his steps quick and silent.<br/><br/>He slipped up the stairs, eyes scanning the hall. It was empty but a large set of ornate double doors opened to a giant lounge with a massive wooden bar, mirroring the one downstairs. Next to the bar, there was a blond man seated on one of the plush couches. Next to him was a familiar figure, sprawled out unconscious.<br/><br/>Ryah couldn't have stopped the choked noise in his throat if he tried. "Ch-Charlie--" he sucked in a sharp breath. Mind going blank, Ryah surged forward and emptied his magazine. The blond was gone though, moving inhumanly fast and dodging all his shots. The brunet swapped guns and fired again.<br/><br/>"You must be the older brother," Phineas spoke, his voice tinged with amusement. "You're a little late, you know."<br/><br/>"Shut up. What did you do to her?" He growled out, firing again. The bullet embedded itself into the bar. In his impulsive anger, he'd forgotten all about Drake. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Charlotte.