The first floor of the basement lays out before her - a shopping mall! It truly feels like Christmas beneath the concrete holding room with a massive tree to boot, its lights glaring off the store windows, row after row.

The excitement of consumerism hangs heavy and palpable in the air, and while the crowds are a tad overwhelming, and [i]everyone[/i] looks like they've dragged themselves straight out of bed - well, for little Candelabra, she's far too sunken into her own head to mind. In fact, she would have preferred to stay put. 

But she found herself on the floor - this was the second time of collapse. On one hand, it was embarrassing; she was in [i]public[/i] - there were people in droves, flooding the storefront, coming in from all sides. But, on the other hand, Candelabra was unused to company, and introducing a foreign concept turned up to eleven would only make it [i]entirely[/i] unrelatable. In addition, she was sulking. So the sullen girl of slime stayed put.

When she heard the [i]ding[/i] of closing elevator doors from behind - (And was that a disconcerted grumbling?) - she made no protest. A prone Candelabra face-planted the floor. 

Was it obvious to the surrounding world that Candelabra wasn't paying attention? With the curiosity she could muster, this was the extent of her hearing: 

[i]SMASSH![/i]

[i]Crrr-UNCH![/i]

[i](Snap! Snap!)[/i]

[i]"This way!"[/i]

[i]"Alright. Show us what you got...!"[/i]

Maybe it was a little exciting, like an action-horror movie. Something B-tier on the late-running monster movie marathon of a sci-fi channel. Something you watched when you were too bored or depressed to care. And Candelabra was too young to be [i]that[/i] depressed.