Fiona smiled in the darkness, holding back a laugh at Max's trouble with the match. Then she reached into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone; she pressed a button and the small face lit up, giving them some small measure of light, and preventing them, hopefully, from making more noise or attracting attention to themselves. If she'd thought about it, Fee probably would have concluded that they weren't in any real danger, most likely -- probably. But this was at least as fun as getting high and playing video games, so she went with it with verve.
"A distraction? Like this?" Just then, Fee reached up and yanked down a pile of haphazardly stacked bakeware tagged as "608"; muffin pans, cookie sheets, metal utensils, clattered down around them, falling to the ground, making an enormous racket. She couldn't help but grin at the chaos, and she kicked the metal for good measure. Sure enough, steps outside the door shuffled closer, and the door swung open. Grabbing Max's hand again, she pulled on him hard as she shouldered past the concierge, running for the front door as he called after them.
"Don't look back," she said, pulling harder on Max's hand, hoping he'd keep up with her. "As long as he didn't see our faces, we're cool!"
Not bothering to see if he'd followed them, she ran for her car, a black, kinda beat up '69 Camaro with electric red seat covers and fuzzy dice in the mirror. Once she was in, she leaned over and unlocked the passenger side and started her up.
"C'mon, get in!" she urged, though she was sporting a grin.