Night 50: Women's Bathrooms (F01-F40)
[from here]
The bathroom at night wasn't too much different from the bathroom during the day--tile floor, a bunch of stalls, sinks, et cetera--except that there was a faint weird smell to it, almost like something rotting. It sounded like the water might be dripping, too.
Morgan stopped at the door and did a careful sweep with her still-dimmed flashlight. When she didn't see anything that needed to be pummeled into submission (and by "submission," she meant, "pulpy, reddish demise"), she crept quietly over to the sinks. The pipes underneath (wow, at least she had to admit this place knew how to do indoor plumbing right) were exposed. Morgan studied them with the expert eye of one well-versed in the ways of destruction, then drove her foot experimentally--not too hard--into one of the joints. She thought she could feel it threatening to give way. "We could probably bash these apart without too much effort," she suggested. The closet rods might or might not hold up, but a few well-placed kicks might just do the trick.
Elaine hadn't mentioned the ring yet, and Morgan didn't bring it up either. She was sure it'd get mentioned sometime, though, and she realized it probably wasn't practical to hold out on Elaine. Guybrush might have a point about their all needing to work together, as contrary to her nature as it was to have to rely on not even one, but three other people. No way was she going to tell LeChuck, though. That guy was sneaky and (she had to admit it) a darn good fighter, and he couldn't be trusted not to stab them in the backs at the earliest possible opportunity. It'd be better if he didn't know which one of the three of them had it.
The bathroom at night wasn't too much different from the bathroom during the day--tile floor, a bunch of stalls, sinks, et cetera--except that there was a faint weird smell to it, almost like something rotting. It sounded like the water might be dripping, too.
Morgan stopped at the door and did a careful sweep with her still-dimmed flashlight. When she didn't see anything that needed to be pummeled into submission (and by "submission," she meant, "pulpy, reddish demise"), she crept quietly over to the sinks. The pipes underneath (wow, at least she had to admit this place knew how to do indoor plumbing right) were exposed. Morgan studied them with the expert eye of one well-versed in the ways of destruction, then drove her foot experimentally--not too hard--into one of the joints. She thought she could feel it threatening to give way. "We could probably bash these apart without too much effort," she suggested. The closet rods might or might not hold up, but a few well-placed kicks might just do the trick.
Elaine hadn't mentioned the ring yet, and Morgan didn't bring it up either. She was sure it'd get mentioned sometime, though, and she realized it probably wasn't practical to hold out on Elaine. Guybrush might have a point about their all needing to work together, as contrary to her nature as it was to have to rely on not even one, but three other people. No way was she going to tell LeChuck, though. That guy was sneaky and (she had to admit it) a darn good fighter, and he couldn't be trusted not to stab them in the backs at the earliest possible opportunity. It'd be better if he didn't know which one of the three of them had it.