Deacon knew the difference between the taste of blood and paint, and this was defiantly the former. He spat it out as fast as his brain registered it. He looked around wide eyes, wondering what had happened here. If she was dead where was the body, you didn't hide someone that large that quickly in an empty room. The emptiness was what made it feel so wrong. There was nothing to misdirect the eye or hide her. If she was alive, then where the hell was she.<br/><br/>Deacon tried to focus on something, anything, to keep from passing out. What was it Scott had said? Team building exercises? If that was the case it was surely a sick twisted way to get them to work together. He turned as he wiped the rest of the blood off of his finger and onto his pants. "Its blood. I don't know if its her blood, but it defiantly ain't paint. I got a really bad feeling about this. Lets make like bananas and split, OK?"<br/><br/>Scott's hand was on the door and he didn't look to good. Deacon clapped his hands together loudly and said in a bit of a firmer tone, "Lets get the hell outta here. Theres a trail leading into the woods not to far. Lets get a move on, we hurry we can make it to town before nightfall and maybe report this..."<br/><br/><em>Woah there hombre!</em>His inner voice shouted,<em>Two loonies from the local freak farm wander into town and tell how their shrink disappeared from an empty toilet. How you think that gonna go over? I'm thinking they might end up frying your ass...</em><br/><br/>He cringed a bit and added "...on second thought, lets just get into town and get something to eat. We are waisting daylight, you know?"