Lottie doesn't think. Can't think. Her brain doesn't have the capacities to do two things at once. So she just runs, her $600, imported from Paris plumps pounding the earth beneath her, her arms flailing uselessly, her legs aching with the absence of exercise. But it's her feet that kill, threatening to stop working altogether if she doesn't let up on her mad dash.
Instead, the rich heiress of the la Bouff fortune pushes herself to run faster, as fast at these devil shoes will allow her.
Coming to this party tonight had seemed like a wonderful idea in the beginning. Lottie had been ecstatic to meet the twelve older brothers of her fiancé. She wasn't even bothered that Hans had invited Kristoff along, too. Without Sven, who wasn't invited, Kristoff is tolerable. Then, one of her friends had managed to show up, and Lottie was briefly reunited with Mulan, before she was ushered away into meeting Herman Westergaard, Han's brother. The conversation had been cut short when Herman had everybody evacuated, spurting nonsense about a malfunction in a video game? In the midst of all the chaos, she had been separated from Hans in the crowd, and she waited outside the house for more than twenty minutes, searching the crowd for her man, or her cousin. Eventually, the parking lot had emptied out, leaving only a few cars left in the lot, one of which the Lamborghini they had taken to the party. She was only left with the conclusion that Hans, and possibly Kristoff who is also missing, were stuck inside the house.
She had tried all the doors - it was locked down from the inside, leaving her with no easy way to get in. And on top of all that, phone lines are down. She has nobody to call.
Good thing one of her close friends lives on this very same street. A friend she is certain will join her in breaking back into his mansion to save her Hansy-Bear!
She clambers her way up the winding, tiled driveway to another familiar mansion, her feet screaming in protest to rip the tortuous shoes off. If she had known she was going to be reduced to running around the neighborhood tonight, she would have worn heels that aren't so narrow.
Her breath hitches in her throat, her lungs heaving with the effort breathe, but she doesn't stop, not until she reaches the wide front doors.
"Open up!" She raises a fist and pounds it against the door, beating until it hurts. After a moment of silence, she presses the doorbell repeatedly, the night so quiet she can hear the bell from the inside. Her desperation grows as the seconds tick on by, and she resumes her door banging while punching the doorbell. "I know ya'll are in there!"
The seconds stretch into a minute, and finally the door is flung wide open. Lottie has to catch herself before she can fall onto the pristine white carpet of the foyer. Leveling herself, she gazes up into the eyes of a dark skinned, tall, large man. He glares down at her through heavy eyelids, a pink sleeping cap dangling on his bald head.
"Cheese and crackers, Freight Train! Move!" She brushes past the giant built like a train and stomps into the house. "Is he home? It's an emergency!"
Freight Train remains quiet, watching the wild blonde tromp through the house.
"Oh, fine! I'll wake 'im myself!" She doesn't have to be told where to go; she's been to this mansion dozens of times. Her friend's room is on the top floor, away from the rest of humanity. After long days on red carpets and movies sets, he's prefers to keep away from people, especially those who refuse to acknowledge how awesome he is. Plus, he's always terrified someone will mess with his beauty sleep and he won't look incredibly sexy for the camera.
Well, tonight he's just going to have to put his needs aside, because she's about to throw off his groove.
The treacherous hike up the spiral stairway is taking longer than usual, what with these shoes meant to murder feet. But they're just so cute, she can't bring herself to take them off. Running around barefoot- big no-no.
