RE1 watched the...man? Woman? Intently...even though she was most certainly concerned, the concern still didn't seem to will her into moving away. It was an unsettling sensation. Neither wishing to stay nor being able to summon up the will to leave. Even the reveal of the weapon was not so severe as to spur action from her. 

And that was, as it turned out, one of the more usual things she'd been bid to do. 

If the forced stop had left RE1 confused, then the moment she began to feel the music, and the irresistible bid to dance along with it, brought that disbelief to levels she couldn't have imagined. 

This was far stranger. 

It was also far far more distressing. 

Much like the freeze she didn't like it. She knew it was bad. What was more...it was painful. As she began to jerkily move in time with the disembodied music, struggling to adhere her animalistic posture to the unnatural more of travel, she could feel each abrupt shift in her body position tug and tear at the edges of the wounds in her abdomen. Ichor seeped down the robe and dripped onto her feet and the road below to make an oil slick beneath.  Her apparent partner's masked expression was all smiles, a bobbing, mocking visage that did nothing to mirror her pain and alarm as she danced herself apart.

Eventually there was a stop.


The Conductor struck a pose.

RE1 buckled to the floor. 

The experiment dropped to her knees, hands clutching at her midriff before she coughed and wretched up green ooze into the dirt. What was left was a murky puddle of what served for blood, that she hunched over, long hair hanging over her face, looking thoroughly defeated.

This was, not all that surprisingly given her background, the first time RE1 had ever danced. That considered, and given her state of health, he hadn't made to bad an effort. 

But she really really didn't want to do it again.[@Conch Shell VII]