[center][i]Ranch House[/i][/center]

Spire, who missed the unusual introductions occurring in front of the ranch house by mere moments, guided Hel by the hand toward the kitchen. Not unexpectedly, the sight that greeted him there consisted of Soren, Clockwork, and Pierrot. The almost respectably tolerable pastry chef, the creepy but tolerable talking doll, and the pain in the ass - but not on Spire's shortlist by association to his family members - circus freak.

[color=lightgray]"Hang out here for a bit, all right, Hel?"[/color] said Spire simply, giving Soren a half nod of greeting but not bothering to ask (or indeed, even think to ask) if the man minded keeping an eye on Hel. Spire wasn't exactly one to feel guilty about taking advantage of someone's good-naturedness. And he had somewhere to be.

Detour from his mission completed, he hurried toward the basement.

As he trotted down the stairs, the wood complained under the brisk descent, but not half as much as Spire was going to complain if he got down there to find Oren with her neck snapped. Interrogation had never been all that satisfying. Torture was like trying to survive by licking the condensation off the outside of a jar of water. If Montana smashed open the metaphorical jar and drank it all without telling him, Spire was going to have words.

[color=lightgray]"Son of a bitch,"[/color] groaned Spire with a mix of relief and mild confusion upon seeing no trace of Montana, but instead Dawn, along with Mina, who appeared to be doing a very thorough job of patching up the prisoner. That was new.

[color=lightgray]"What's this, doc? Making a clean slate for me? You shouldn't have," [/color] he said.