[Britta hears the knocking on the door and thinks it's just her splitting headache clocking into work early. Then it gets louder and -- hang on -- the headache doesn't get worse just yet.
Oh. It's the door. Someone's at the door. How awkward.
She drags herself off from the table and, barely missing her one-eyed cat, makes it to the door. She then spends almost a full minute fumbling with the locks before realising that, nope, door's not locked. Throwing the door open, she scowls; her curly hair's a wild mess and she's got full-on, Samuel L. Jackson crazy eyes going on.
Groovy.
Oh. It's the door. Someone's at the door. How awkward.
She drags herself off from the table and, barely missing her one-eyed cat, makes it to the door. She then spends almost a full minute fumbling with the locks before realising that, nope, door's not locked. Throwing the door open, she scowls; her curly hair's a wild mess and she's got full-on, Samuel L. Jackson crazy eyes going on.
Irene meet Medusa. Medusa, Irene.]
Yes? What'd you want?