<strong>Throckbottle ~ chaos in the studio</strong><br/><br/>It sounded a bit like a train as he watched the pile of bodies colliding. If Humphrey were a betting man he would have certainly bet wrong. Two against eight, who would have guess. So he tried to look very small hoping to be unnoticed as his thoughts between crawling somewhere to hide and running away collided and he was stuck in place with a plethora of indecision.<br/><br/>Madison was quick Throckbottle had to admit. But Evie who had that paper bag in her hand was just plain dangerous. She brought it to her lips before he could stop her. His first thought was germs. Did she have her rabies shots?<br/><br/>It was too late. He watched in horror as she filled the bag. He was about to retreat when she shoved it back into his hand.<br/><br/>The bag was warm. It felt heavy and oozed in droplets thru the tear. The dance floor was pristine, and highly polished. Any disturbance of the polish could cause a dancers feet to stick when they should glide and could result in a leg injury. Weeks of work would be destroyed in seconds.<br/><br/>Yet the bag was warm with toxic digestive juices. A drop was oozing from the bag making a slow line toward the floor. He shuddered as he placed a hanky on the bag and turned toward the bin in stilted steps to avoid any possibility of leakage or breakage from the paper.