In the meantime, not only had Claire left at least six US presidents headless, or armless, legless, or any combination of them all in the middle of the park, she'd been slamming the bathroom door with her shoulder, shouting various profanities at the little green pain-in-the-ass since she managed to be thrown and locked in by George Washington and Grover Cleveland.
At first, when she came across the army of robots in the dead of night in the middle of a deserted Disney, she'd thought the shoe for this week had dropped- that it was the hotel's doing, or that this wasn't just Disney World, but some weird sci-fi world where robots turned on humans. She'd been genuinely terrified when they managed to disarm her and carry her around screaming- somebody had to have heard her.
But now that fear (and the battle-instinct that came with it) had diffused into genuine rage-annoyance at the pipsqueak on the other side of the metal reinforced door.