Ms. Barker was approximately 4"1'. Emma thought, had always thought that Ms. Barker was a dead ringer for the "Granny" character in the Tweety cartoons that always hit Sylvester the cat on the head with the umbrella.
Now, Metallicus, dressed in a steel blue lycra bodysuit with an insignia of a wrench on his chest stood beside Raven, who was exposing more cleavge than a dairy farm. And they stood, side by side, Raven's wings slightly crooked, side by side in an elevator, looking at their landlord, Ms. Barker.
Ms. Barker, who they owed two months rent. Ms. Barker, who squinting through her glasses, likely nearly ninety years old, shuffled her way, cane in hand onto the elevator. She had left several handwritten notes on their door, complete with a bag of cookies, asking them to come see her, but, having no rent, or any forseeable money coming in, they had simply eaten the cookies and discarded the note.
Alan and Emma stiffenned, shifted to their left to make room for the old lady. They exchanged a glance they had exchanged a hundred times. A glance that signalled a possible emergency. A glance that might say "on the count of three" or "I'll take the guy on the left".
Ms. Barker peered at Alan for what seemed like an eternity. Pulled her glasses over the bridge of her nose to help her focus. Alan instinnctively reacted by squeezing Emma's hand and staring straight ahead. Every muscle beneath his shimmering blue spandex body suit rippled in tension. Sweat steamed beneath his mask. Emma looked at the floor.
And when Ms. Barker spoke, both felt like they might soil themselves.
"Could you press the number four button, sweetie?"
She hadn't recognized them. Raven and Mettalicus both hit the button at the same time. Two long floors down, and Ms. Barker had shuffled off onto the fourth floor hallway.
And Raven and Mettalicus made their descent into the dark depths of the B2 level parking garage.