-Ding, Dong...Avon calling?-<br/><br/>Morgan heard the last thump during a lull in the music. at first he wondered if the speakers had knocked something off of a shelf again. he has lost a nice little crystal piece once from that. Then he remembered that he didn't have anything like that anymore. He looked about the room, everything seemed in place, so he pondered for a moment.<br/><br/>Something about Pinky and the Brain came to mind, but that didn't help anything. He wandered to an ash tray, Aline would beat him for smoking in the studio, a threat that carried more weight after Miss grip-of-steel had left bruises on his upper arm. He didnt remember her installing a gym, best to avoid places like that and all.<br/><br/>he looked around the studio before eying the door to the elevator. Every nerve screamed that he was alone, separated from the group. And that if this were a horror movie, he was the first to die. This is mind, he stubbed the cigarette out and proceeded to the door, opening it with a grand flourish. when no axe came whistling through he was somewhat disappointed. Well, maybe next time.<br/><br/>he waiting a moment and then poked his head outside, looking around to see if there was a ...SHIT THERE WAS A BODY OUT HERE! it took him only a moment to recognize Ingrid's prone form. The aroma Tennessee's finest came a wafting from the body on the ground. Morgan paused for a moment, not realizing Ingrid had such similar taste in drinks of choice. he quickly moved inside, turned the music off and returned to the woman who was rapidly becoming best friends with his wall.<br/><br/>Morgan was a drunk, he knew the many stages of getting blotto with a certain intimacy reserved for dear friends and the occasional escort. Seeing Ingrid like this did not sit well. She never drank, and had never been drunk to Morgan's knowledge. He contemplated his words earlier in the evening, like a half hour ago really, and decided that this was not normal. He carefully gathered up the woman and brought her inside.<br/><br/>He laid her out on the futon couch, knowing that her morning was going to be worse than his. After she was safe, he went to see her studio , realizing what had happened there, the absence of art and a quick look out the window and down, morgan spent the rest of the night saving her work inbetween checking in on the petite woman on his couch.<br/><br/>She would wake with the smell of strong coffee, a chilled washcloth upon her brow, and all of her art saved and placed back in her studio.