“I’m going to get a drink,” Wild Whip said, ignoring the clock, which indicated the time as 2 PM. Whip’s girlfriend, used to the sudden outbursts of alcoholism, didn’t say anything.
Instead, the two of them moved towards the den — the very same den where Anne was under a desk, hiding.
As the two of them stood roughly five steps away from the door, Shade stood outside the house. She threw a pebble at the window.
“What was that?” the girlfriend asked.
“Oh, probably a bird or something,” Whip said, taking another step towards the door, desperate for alcohol.
Shade threw another two pebbles at the window, because subtlety was clearly lost on these people.
“What was that?” the girlfriend asked, staying where she was.
“Two birds?” Whip took another two steps towards the door, which — for those who are keeping count — meant that she was two steps away from the door.
“I’m doubtful,” the girlfriend said, while Whip took the second-to-last step towards the door.
“Birds of a feather,” Whip said, taking the last step towards the den’s door. She placed her hand on the knob and opened the door.
Shade threw a massive stone through the window, which crashed, setting off the security alarm.
“Must be hunting season,” Whip said, “because this bird’s about to get its ass whooped.”