Apparently making jokes involving death or the weaponry involving said death around Alice was a terrible, terrible idea. She put her hands up in vague alarm. "Whoa, whoa, Sunshine, now, I know that you're just using this harsh exterior and death threats to hide the fact that you're secretly [i]infatuated[/i] with me, but could you point away the thing that fires flaming death? 'Shot in the head with a misfired -- [i]hopefully[/i], misfired -- pistol' is not something I want on my tomb stone." By this point she had stopped noticing whether or not Alice had actually still had the gun pointed at her, and was now conjuring up several ideal death fantasies. It was a split between 'over-dosing from the exact amount of drugs used in [i]Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas[/i] whilst [i]in[/i] Vegas at a poker table', or 'dying from too much sex'. The former sounded more interesting, but it didn't sound more enjoyable than the latter...

Dimitri had apparently also made his way up top, and started his contribution to the conversation stunningly. "Dimitri, you [i]magnificent[/i] man, you have the greatest ideas!" she said with a big grin etched on her face, and responded by loosing her tie, throwing her suit's jacket aside, and started unbuttoning her shirt without a single moment of hesitation or shame. "It's gotta be done, Alice. It’s gotta be done."