<strong>Emily Fitzgerald</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>:Paris, en route to apartment<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: John<br/><hr/>Molly doesn't bother to discuss it further, and takes off for the apartment, knowing that John will keep up.  Though her jogging pace has increased to something just short of a sprint, she knows John can match it, so she calls to him over her shoulder as they run.  The tone of her words is wavering a bit with the cyclical motion of her strides, occasionally broken by the intensified, quick breaths of exertion, "If we knew someone-- with a car, or a motorcycle-- we'd get there faster--  If Maria or Kumari are home--  we'll ask..."<br/><br/>Her determination is evident as ever, but something in her eyes betrays apprehension beyond the concern over a friend's bad decision.  The headlines flash through her mind again and again, returning the formless fear that beyond those words, deep in the strange city, some horror is lurking and waiting for them, and it would take them one by one or all at once if it could.