Re: [Second Floor Hallway
[Janus wasn't bitter, he was just plain angry. He had a feeling he knew why the spooks weren't happy with him just at the moment, and it didn't put him in a good mood. It was like Michael's little comment back there about what was good for him, or being a baby about something--it all just made Janus want to do the opposite of what he'd been told, the imp of perverse in full raging glory.
Despite what he knew about Michael and his little gang, Janus was not expecting salt overhead, and his concentration burst like an orange under a pneumatic press. Janus ducked, wild and sideways, a ball player avoiding a wild pitch, and skidded sideways on one knee across the carpet. The room was littered with shattered cosmetics, toasted cotton work shirts, suit coats and even a sequined dress. Any furniture movable had been tipped over, and Janus ended up sprawled against a padded bench that used to be under the window.]
The fuck, Michael?! [He protested, more angry than afraid. The flames died as the visible signs of the protesters faded out in all directions.]