The barrister stepped out of the carriage and helped the burly bouncer unload the unconscious, pregnant and crazed stalker lady. Lucien shook his head at the chaos one moment's possible indiscretion could lead to, as he watched Guido hoist the rotund woman over his shoulder. It was a night fraught with anxious whisperings, broken cries, calculating observations, casual posturing, doting professions of love, seductive promises of passions, angry outbursts, clinging hopes, flowing drinks and overflowing emotions. In short, a typical night in Rhydin.

And in a fitting end to a typical Rhydin evening, the waning night unfolded to reveal the shadowy pair approaching the large warehouse of brown and green with their burdensome "package."

Somewhere amid the demands for satisfaction, the warnings against infatuation, the cries for arrest, the charge of paternity, the flying shards of wood, a near herniated disk, a mad Ancient, a nearer castration, a gut wrenching bellow, some obvious issues regarding something or someone names Mab, and even a gummy worm, the crazed woman had somehow knocked herself unconscious. (Or been knocked unconscious. That still remained unclear to the barrister.)

"Set her down here," the man quietly instructed the burly bouncer with his charge. "Gently," he added as an afterthought. Guido set the woman down by the doors to the RPS offices. Lucien tucked a rolled blanket under her head and threw another over her slumbering form. A note was pinned on the blanket and the bouncer and barrister retreated from the place.

The note read:

Do not open until Christmas!