"Geo, where's the loo?" Ringo asked as he hanged George's coat.

"Left hallway, last door to the.... left!" George called out from the kitchen.

"Ta." He replied, gaze fixated on the chandelier swinging slightly above his head.

Ringo turned and went to the bathroom. The mansion's old floorboards creaked underneath his feet.

A chill ran up his spine when he got to the bathroom. It was creepy and elegant at the same time. Numerous times he tried to lock the door but it wouldn't work, so he closed it tight instead.

Ringo wiped the dust and grime from the large mirror. He sneezed when the dust came in contact with his face.

Like the chandelier, the mirror was classy. It had that kind of design you would see in a European castle, the ones with high towers and stone steps.

After that, he washed his hands with freezing water (oddly, George was even colder than this) and dried his hands on a nearby towel (that also looked fancy as hell) and fixed his appearance. He ran his tongue over his bruised, red lip, remembering George's lips over his.

He jumped when George knocked on the door.

"Ringo?" George called out. "Your tea's getting cold."

"It's open!" He replied as he tried combing his messy mop of a hair back in place.

The door swung open. Ringo froze, eyes wide. He couldn't believe what he was seeing in the mirror, or rather, what he wasn't seeing in the mirror.