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Joesph slammed the door open, eyes wide open at the scene. Maureen blinked awake. Scar blinked at Joesph. Joesph fixated his eyes on the gun on in Scar's hands. "Joesph, What are you doing barging into your Mistress' room?" "Sir? Why do you have a gun on the Miss? Why—" Scar put his head down. "Go Joesph." Maureen eyed Scar indifferently. "But Sir—" "Joesph, leave," Scar insisted. Joesph left the room, his hands wringing together. Scar sighed. "Why didn't you do it," She whispered. Scar put the gun on the dresser, standing. He opened the wardrobe. "You always looked good in gold. And yellow. It sets against your skin so well—" "Don't avoid my question. You could've killed me. And you didn't. Why?" He sighed. "There was something wrong with—" Maureen stood, taking the gun off
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