Room 422, the Arms Hotel, Saturday
Mary hadn't been in a good mood all day after her so-called date with Barney Stinson. Twenty-four hours ago, she thought that the worst case scenario would have been if he stood her up. Having him invoke the Lemon Law and imply that she was a lemon? That was ten times worse.
Then came the frantic phone calls from the front desk. After talking to John Connor and confirming that yes, the dinosaurs were attacking the town, she and Gunther rounded up the employees and barricaded the lobby as best they could, then retreated to the upper floors.
The smart thing would have been to stay close to Gunther, who was armed with a rolling pin and a meat cleaver and pissed that the dinosaurs ruined his first Saturday serving afternoon tea. Mary wasn't that smart. She left the group and went back to her room, pulling out a locked box that she had buried in the furthest recesses of her closet. Opening it, she found what she was looking for -- the .22 caliber revolver she used the night her father was murdered.
This place was her home now, and she'd be damned if she'd let a couple of prehistoric monsters destroy it.
Then came the frantic phone calls from the front desk. After talking to John Connor and confirming that yes, the dinosaurs were attacking the town, she and Gunther rounded up the employees and barricaded the lobby as best they could, then retreated to the upper floors.
The smart thing would have been to stay close to Gunther, who was armed with a rolling pin and a meat cleaver and pissed that the dinosaurs ruined his first Saturday serving afternoon tea. Mary wasn't that smart. She left the group and went back to her room, pulling out a locked box that she had buried in the furthest recesses of her closet. Opening it, she found what she was looking for -- the .22 caliber revolver she used the night her father was murdered.
This place was her home now, and she'd be damned if she'd let a couple of prehistoric monsters destroy it.