Rising through the stairwell, shortly after midnight.
The Witch was very aware of what time it was. She was waiting, and so hungry for access to the modern world. Vaughn could feel her twitching beneath the surface, or it might just have been some psychosomatic awareness of the coming midnight. Regardless, a minute till, she tossed her cigarette and walked into the lobby.
It was like darkness spilled all around her, it was like falling so fast until she landed as somebody else. While there were very few differences between The Witch and Vaughn, the change was wholly apparent. The Witch was cool, her spine as straight and rusted as a railroad spike. Regal, untouchable. Her eyes did not hold the wariness that Vaughn's did in every passing corridor.
Aware of Vaughn's preference for black, the dress remained. She tightened it at the bone shards of hip and lengthened the train into spiderweb tentacles of silk and lace. And then, she hit the stairwell.
The Witch was looking for someone, she knew who. She wouldn't stop until she got there.