Re: The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.
Emery heard the desperation in her voice and for the first time that night, the care that Emery always saw to, finally sunk in. He had to assess the situation. He moved over to where she was, taking the back of her hands in his to get a closer look. She was green, but it was a shade of green that had never once encountered previously upon another human being when it was not- "Oh dear," he said under his breath.
He lifted her chin carefully with his fingers to allow the light to shine a little closer on the pigment of her flesh. "I- I cannot say for certain," his voice held an unusual accent. It was English, but more specifically the English that hailed from England. Not New York. Each time he spoke, it made its way out of his mouth, something he could not stop. Instead of letting it consume his thoughts, he continued to examine the girl.
"There is a theory. A theory roaming around the building. I- I, yes, see, it is only a theory. But they believe, they being a good majority of the building, that we are all descendants of - Well. Fictional characters. This green is, well, suspiciously similar to that of the-" He held his tongue, biting down on it to refrain himself from saying what he believed.
This was madness. All of this was madness.
Nonsense. We both know you are the mad one, Henry.