[ in one particular hall of the Dressing Room, a trail of destruction leads out from the South Wing into a neutral area, all the way into a small library. Wallpaper is ripped, statues are knocked over, vases are smashed, paintings are destroyed-- anything the perpetrator could get his hands on seems to have been destroyed
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Be glad you didn't harm anyone during your rampage.
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Really? There's still time...to change that.
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...you wanna bet?
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If there was some chance of me loosing, perhaps. [Her voice has taken on a melodic quality, not quite singing but distinctly musical. He may feel the wobbling getting worse.]
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[Cross steps from the coffin, looking simultaneously lifeless and animated. He draws judgement and fires as Maria dodges again.]
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He dodges, but barely, the shot clipping his cheek as he pushes forwards to try again to get a hit in on her. ]
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