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[indent][indent][indent][color=gray][sub][right][color=FF7CB6][b]Location:[/b][/color] Corridor Pathways, Fortuna [color=FF7CB6][b]|[/b][/color] In Transit[/right][/sub][/color]
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The likelihood of receiving a punch from Maeve after making a [i]fool of her[/i] was generally high. Nine times out of ten the result would be violence, screaming, or a combination of both. But for some reason this was that rare times that today was the tenth time out of ten. Maeve had seen Marlowe before, certainly, but the two had never exchanged words in any substantial way. There weren't many quirks of his that she knew about and those that she did hadn't irritated her. It was hard to say.

The look on Marlowe’s face was pale and shocked and Maeve did recognize she was in a sore mood, at least somewhere inside her fire ants feeding on a doe’s beating heart-infested brain she saw that he was fearful and quickly shifted to courtesies and offered his hand quickly to get her back to her feet. To his shock she would uncurl her fists before proceeding to grab his wrist sharply before he pulled her up from the floor. When she found herself standing squarely in the corridor she crossed her arms. Her expression shifted from a scowl to a frown, but not much else.

[color=FF7CB6]“What's your problem? Don't you look before you walk?”[/color] Her brows pursed, [color=FF7CB6]“Huh? Can't hear you. Speak up.”[/color]

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