"Godric!" came the shout, Durst turned to face it with a slow exhale. It was MacLeod—he was wearing a blue paisley suit.

"Yes sir?"

"The third floor is all locked up?" he asked with his head askance. "Saw you doing it on the cameras, and then you came in here?"

Godric smiled, rather embarrassed, and said, "I explained my concerns last night. I know you don't think the pattern really holds anymore, but by my reckoning anything that might happen will be up on three. So, I locked it all up."

Davis regarded him for a moment, and though he didn't necessarily seem pleased with this, he said, "Have you satisfied yourself that the danger is minimized then?"

"Mostly," said Durst.

"Good. Get up to four and watch the cameras like your supposed to be doing. And stop by at the party for a drink next patrol."

"Well..."

"What?" demanded Davis.

"Fine sir," said Godric.

"Good. Now I've got to go see about this mythical reporter Mary said was coming. Supposed to be the whole bloody reason she forced this upon us and suddenly he won't pick up the damned phone."

The back was door open when he passed and staff were filing in—must've all arrived while he stared at the secret passage, doing everything but going inside. Mary was of course dressed the best in a flattering green frock, but even though this was basically all about her she looked unhappily about and constantly checked her phone.

Ada was there too. A thing Godric wanted to be unhappy about, yet for as long as he looked at her he simply couldn't muster the feeling. She wasn't dressed particularly up—only a dress shirt and black pants. Most of the other attendees besides Wexler and MacLeod followed suit in their outfits, and all told Mary looked vaguely like she'd arrived at the wrong party.

The majority of others were figures whose names he knew, but nothing more, a Jan, a Terry, and a George among others he knew only vaguely by sight and job description. From the parking lot each brought various plastic plates of hors d'oeuvres to the elevator, and the occasional bottle of alcohol.

For a second Godric's eyes met Ada's—she was looking at him, puzzled, and he realized all at once he was staring. He made for the stairs then. When he was halfway up a sharp voice came from behind—Ada's.

"What were you doing in that room?" Godric stopped and turned. She was a landing below him, her face concerned and puzzled as she gazed up at him. "You were in there for a while..."

"I..." Durst had been about to lie, but when he met her eyes it gave him pause, and he said, "Can't explain easily."

"Were you in the secret passage?"

"I was thinking of it," he said, tapping his fingers on the bannister, "But I was never going to do it," he sighed, "I couldn't, really. MacLeod interrupting me synched it."

"Why?"

"I'm claustrophobic."

"That bad?"

"Yes. Do you remember when you locked me in?"

She glared at him and cried "I don't want to talk about that!"

"That was why though. Why I couldn't use the passage and it sounded like I fell. I did fall. Trying to escape. It just... I can't do it."

"I'd forgotten about that part... Okay," she said this sweetly. "But why would you need to go in there?"

"To get something."

"What?"

"I can't explain it well enough to not sound like a dunce."

She smirked and stared at him then.

"Even if it was maybe true..." she began, "You still sounded like a dunce trying to explain the constellation of Pan. I didn't run away then. Tell me."

Godric sucked in breath, and spat, "A skull as been returned to the fourth basement, the one Steve stole, and more."

Her face was unreadable.

"I think," Godric went on, "It's some kind of occult or black magic bullshit. Candles and altars and what not. I... I found a book about it and was told the bones were moved down there now."

She began squinting, a tinge of red on her cheeks. Durst pressed on, regardless, "I... I think the disturbances are being directed by someone... To an end I don't know, and they're using the bones. But it can be stopped if we get the skull I think."

"Oofra," she said, "Before Sala died, I would've walked away."

"Oh...?"

"Let's go," she said after a moment of cringing hesitation, she fixed her eyes on him, and said, "Let's go see. I'll help you get there."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I can make it or not."

"Close your eyes and I'll help you though the tight parts. I'm not going for you, and I don't think you should go alone either."

"I'm going to be mess in there..."

"I don't care," said Ada. "I don't want to go to that party upstairs. I mustn't be all that friendly a person, perhaps by nature, because you're the closest person I've come to clicking with at the museum. I didn't have many friends while I was in school either. I think now I see where I've missed my opportunities... Where I made my mistakes."

She paused and sighed—embarrassed—before saying, "There's little time left, but I don't want my time here to have been another complete social misfire... Another missed opportunity. Even if I must crawl through the terrible basement of a shitty museum to look for bones to see potential fulfilled."

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900 words.

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