Ooc: *sigh* This not having a computer at home leaves me so behind in the stories
IC: Vivalie had ducked behind the hotel glass at the first signs of explosion and continued to hide herself as the shots rang out.
When the sounds seemed to have quieted down a bit, she ventured out again this time bringing servents. Two burly Russians, Ivan and Barak, their bulk suggestive of the strength in each bulging muscle. Ivan had apparently had a 'kitchen' accident as one side of his face was flat, remarkably forming the shape of a frying pan. Barak, on the other hand, just had the bloodshot eyes of a man who drinks like a fish. She used Ivan to hold her parasol, and Barak to carry her little 'petty cash' purse in his vise like fingers.
With those two in toe, she once again started for the saloon, it's tinny music pouring out into the morning air.