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Helena was quickly beginning to stress, even worse than Elizabeth. She bit at her lower lip, hands patting down her own pockets even though the artist knew what would be found: nothing. Catching a glimpse of Elizabeth's suggestive expression, Helena started feeling a little warm and rolled up her sleeves.

Sleeves are up, no one can see us, and I'm fast. I could cut him down in no time. Grissom really didn't like hearing herself think that way, but at the same time it was absolutely true. True and tempting. She was almost shuddering in her mental fight against the urge to redecorate with this man's blood and entrails.

It was almost unbearable! She had to do something, so she asked for permission. "You think it's alright?" she glanced at both the girls and even briefly at the lone non-Host. To clarify her own position she offered a hand to either girl; all they had to do was give her a high-five and they'd be off to murdering a man in cold blood.

Helena was disturbed by just how comfortable she was with that idea.

"But we're Hungry," Clarissa noted with shame in her voice. "At least, I think they are." The Hunger was always there in her, but it was at bay since she'd eaten a Host-Agent. She had been tempted to take Helena's hand, but at the same time, she was afraid of what would happen. Correction - She KNEW what would happen. She was afraid of the consequences. My soul is damned to Hell anyways, why should I care for this man? She hugged herself as if it would protect her from the situation.

She turned back to the Spanish man with a weak smile. I don't think this will work, but I'll tell him what Finnegan said. "Ahh, Dejamos nuestros papeles en nuestra habitación. No vamos a...oh what was it...molestarte?" The man seemed to understand what she was attempting to say. "Dejanos salir y usted no tendrá que - darn, I can't remember what worry is. Uhhh...No tendrá que concernir por nosotros."

Elizabeth slapped her hand against Helena's immediately.

Mr. Blackbird Lore: -2 AP.

Helena felt the contact, felt her hands stretch and become deadly, felt herself leap forward. Things began happening impossibly slowly; she could hear shouts outside, the door being thrown open; there were footsteps out there, certainly.

The man's eyes bulged as she came forward at him, as she cut for his throat and his arm simultaneously. She was fast enough, she had the edge, he was going to die. Blades met flesh.

And it wasn't just his.

As she came at him, he had put his left arm forward, in an unconscious effort to stop the blade from going for his chest, while his knife had leapt from chest-height to neck-height. Helena felt her left hand sink through the man's left arm's skin and muscle, stopping short at bone; the knife in his right hand deflected the other blade. But not quite enough. It clipped his neck - not deep enough to hit a major vein, but enough to shock him even more. He fell backward over his own chair, shouting in pain.

Men circled the corner; they were geared up like soldiers, and some of them even had pistols, but all of them were carrying blades - short swords, knives, daggers, something, but none of them were relying on gas-powered firearms. That was extremely odd. So far, though, it seemed like there was a reason for it.

"That was entirely necessary! He only gave us clothing so he could keep us here while they showed up!" Elizabeth snapped, indicating the approaching enemies. "Furthermore, they probably have us surrounded. We'll have to break out. Therefore-" she pounded her fists together, the shield forming, "We're going with you."

Finnegan looked hard at Clarissa, "And you think she had the right to cut him up, do you?" he paused, sighed, took a deep breath, and softened his look. "I'm sorry."

"Look, if we're surrounded, we DON'T have to fight, they probably don't have anyone on the roofs, and we're ALL faster than any of them. So before we go anywhere and spread any more unneeded violence, we should try to find a way out, these people have families, we can't just slaughter them all and we don't need to be drawin' any more attention to ourselves."

He looked towards the sound of approaching men, "Elizabeth, you have a shield, see if you can find out how many are out front. Calrissa, see if you can find a back way out, and preferably a way to the rooftops, or maybe a back alley if nothing else. Helena, if there's no back way out, maybe you could cut us one through the wall?"

Helena was outraged; she had failed in her assassination attempt, Finnegan was giving her lip, and more soldiers were literally knocking on the front door. She growled loudly in her frustration. She was about to give the Irishman an earful when he asked for her help. <********. ********. Fine. "We don't have time to wait." She marched past everyone into the bedroom and began cutting a nice hole through the wall toward what she imagined was the backyard. <********. This. s**t.