Oh, that maniacs laughter. It was high and low, chirping, sacred and profane, bubbling, a prostitute's grapefruit body spray, skittering, the incandescent glitter of an acrobat who loves with a love that's more than love--it poetically saturated the stairwell like a smoke bomb on a Parisian subway, and yet was as demented as Frederick Nietzsche's 'letters from syphillis.' It was primal and for that absolved. It provided residents odd circus intervals to their dreams and made villains blush with its artificial purity. He'd caught the innuendo she'd thrown with the finesse of the aforementioned acrobat, minus the glitter for this set, during the tossing of his partner by way of the triple aerial assault.
Ahem.
"Yes, a king cobra. He's very poisonous. I wouldn't recommend petting him. He's got to be around here somewhere. I'm sure he'll find his way back." he followed after her of course, though kept behind on purpose eventually. He was not only staring out of the windows to see precisely where he was in relation to his own hovel, but the view of Jane at this angle was rather pleasing as well.
"Oh, what's this." he'd inquired, though mostly to himself. It was a small note! "Jane! I found gossip!" he bent down to pick it up and began shamelessly unfolding it.