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Wouldn't want to make things too easy, now would we?" Yes, milady." With a brief nod, the man departed. Allura turned back to the window. Sebastien weighed the situation. He stood before the Enchantress' castle, and before him stood four men, armed and armoured. They held weapons ready in a battle stance, their faces grim. It appeared he had no choice. He drew his sword and approached, slowly. He was only lightly armoured, having had to travel a great distance to reach this place. The men before him wore heavy armour, carried both sword and shield. The first man lunged; he parried, dodged, backed away, forcing them to move after him. In their heavy armour they would tire more easily than he did, and he would need every advantage he could get. He kept moving, circling, darting in to strike then dancing away, forcing them to move constantly out of each other's way, careful never to let anyone get behind him. Finally he saw an opening, and took it. Darting in, he ducked into a roll, his. Single-mindedness has its compensations, he grinned anew at his own wit. He didn’t have a one track mind–he was just single-minded. Funny. # Denise felt detached, like she’d had a nasty accident and gone into shock. Truly a weird thing to feel at the moment of her greatest victory to date, but there it was: the ease with which they’d gotten approval and covered their tracks stunned her, left her with the anticlimactic knowledge that her gut-wrenching anxieties meant nothing. She hadn’t really believed it was possible, Moore realized. Part of her had been waiting for the whole team to be caught, stopped, questioned, something, despite William’s continual cockiness, the Girl Scout in her had been expecting some kind of punishment. Thanks to the Holy Roman Church, guilt came naturally to Denise. Between parish school, mandatory confession, and her family’s deeply held and highly visible Catholic traditions, she’d been steeped in faith and provided with a rigidly defined moral code. As.
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