And now! The Kit Kat Klub is proud to welcome back an old friend!
Green fingernails scratch and tug at the heavy street doors of the Kit Kat Klub.
Well, really! When did they start bothering to LOCK these doors?
Huffing and blowing a blonde curl from her eyes, the familiar woman-wearing an unfamiliar grey fur coat-straightened her small decorative hat and snatched up a large carpet bag from the sidewalk.
Someone just HAD to be inside, the blasted place couldn't have closed down, there would be a riot!
Getting a room at her former residence would be impossible. She had taken off and left without paying Fraulein Schneider her last two months rent. The old battleaxe wouldn't even let her in now.
Time for plan B, it seems.
Continuing down the street a small way the woman ducks into an alley, the echo of her heels clacking loud in the small space, she traverses trashcans and all manner of other waste. Ah, home sweet home.
The backdoor that led into the Klub's kitchen was closed, probably against the cold but again she tried the icy metal handle to find it locked. Fortunately, she had long since learned a trick to overcome this particular obstacle.
Hooking her bag awkwardly in the crock of her elbow-well, she wasn't about to let her belongings touch the sticky ground!-the woman removed her hat and more importantly the hat-PIN and set to work jimmying the simple latch-lock.
Success! Someone really should look into the lax security around here. She tsked, shaking her head with a smirk and let herself into the dark kitchen.
The boarded up window obscured most of the natural light in the room, but the place had definitely not closed down. Setting her bag and hat on the counter she surveyed the room via the light leaking in from the bar area.
It seemed the kitchen hadn't changed.
And oh! Look at that! Someone left the bread out! Her stomach giving a grateful gurgle, those green fingernails reach out to tear off a chunk of crust and she stuffs it into her mouth in a most unlady-like manner before footsteps behind the woman catch her attention.
Spinning back to the bar-door she promptly chokes on the contents of her mouth. Not for fear of who stood before her, mind you, but the bloody bread was stale!
Spitting a sodden lump into her hand and grimacing, she quickly plastered on her best smile. "Well, honestly darling, this is NOT how I wanted to make my entrance."