Robyn took one last look at the lake from her goddamn huge condo window, then closed the blinds and wrote a note for her "bandmates" because she knew they'd come looking: "I'm fucking off for a while to think about stuff. I'll be back, maybe. Sorry about the tour." She left the note on a huge mirror coffee table.
She wrenched her giant axe from where she'd stuck it in some priceless plush couch, and stuffed a textbook-size bag of coke into a backpack. Upon review of whoever used to live here's clothing, she found none of it suitable and decided to leave with what she was wearing. "Fucking miniskirts..."
She went to answer the door and.. it actually took her a second but no more than that. She bowed immedately. "Lord Skwisgaar, you are looking well."