<strong>Throckbottle and the Fourteen flying petunia’s plus two demon seeds</strong><br/><br/>It wasn’t as if they could get very far could they. They were a tribe of sixteen female slaves milling about the corridors aimlessly.  For the love of god someone had to notice them! Hopefully not the wrong someones. Definitely not that Ape and his throat cutting carpet installer, those were the very persons that should be blissfully ignorant until those darlings of dance returned to trip and half spin along the floor in front of the mirrored walls.<br/><br/>Throckbottle stood on the door and peeked around the door frame. The hallway was empty. He clutched the bag as panic was held at bay and he dashed out into the vacuum of the corridor headed in the direction of out at a jig. After all there was no reason to call attention to himself by running down the lane. He would explain to anyone asking that nothing was wrong he was working out a long dance sequence and needed the room.<br/><br/>He pushed the bag to his face and huffed quickly before stopping in front of the only door that did not have a plethora of sound behind it. He looked up slowly to the red sign with white letters that read EXIT. Surely to god they did not go that way.  Surely.<br/>