"Says the woman who is traipsing around the countryside in her nighty," Delia muttered under her breath. "At least some of us were self respecting enough to get dressed."

"Lost, lost. If you'd put things where they belong, they'd never be misplaced. Then you'd never be lost." She continued sweeping furiously as she ranted. Eventually, she shook her head. "You're going to stand there like lost puppies, aren't you? Fine, fine, come in if you must--but stay on the path. No trampling my lawn. And get the mud off your boots before tromping in!"

"It's not a nighty, it's a kimono," Cynthia said icily, brushing a speck of dust off of the flowing, shimmering (but 100% vegan) sleeve. "They're all the rage in... in... what is that country called? Well, they're all the rage somewhere in the world, I can assure you. And I contend that it's a good deal more respectable than being clothed in murdered cow."

Cynthia turned and gracefully strolled down the manicured path, nose in the air.

Once the woman finally offered to let them in, Neal turned to the small group and gestured for the others to make their way inside. There's no mud to trample in. he thought as he quickly checked his boots before entering.

-----

As Cynthia pranced by, Malcom gave Selena a "see, I told you she was bad news" look. A hapless shrug was all he got in response before his companion started for the house.

"If it walks like a nighty, talks like a nighty, and you sleep in it, it is a nighty," Delia replied. After a moment, she leaned back and said, quite softly, to Neal, "I bet I could get a blade between her scapulae if I threw it right now."

"I'd hold your coat if you did." Decker replied in an equally soft, if more gruff, voice.

Delia considered.

"It probably wouldn't help our cause any," she finally replied. "But, sheesh, is it tempting."

The little woman actually took her broom and, walking behind the procession of people entering her yard, started sweeping the path as they went. Whether or not there was any actual dirt to be cleaned was hard to tell; she gave it no time to settle. "Don't touch anything, don't touch anything," she muttered as she went.

Finally, as soon as she was done with that, she wheeled around towards the group, studying them each carefully with steeled eyes. "All right, what do you want? Pretty sure I can't give you directions to where you want to go. What're you doing here, strangers?"

"That is kinda what we would like to find out. We found a map at the mansion, this place was on it. We reckoned it was worth a shot. I'm Jeff, if it isn't too much trouble, might I ask your name? "

"We should look for it. Maybe it can help us get back to Dittopia. And if not, it beats sitting here waiting for someone else to die," Anna said. She was pleased at the thought of having a goal. The silence of the Mansion and the dead world around it was creeping into the back of her head, making her uneasy.

"Well, if you're finding maps, of course my house'd be on it. Not much else around here to see. Still don't know what you're expecting to find, or what you're even looking for."

At the second part, she actually stopped cleaning for a couple of seconds, pondering Jeff's question. "If you really need to have a name, 'Glenda' is as good as any."

"I didn't sleep in it, it's more or less a cover-up—" Cynthia hissed at Delia, before resting her eyes on the small women sweeping the walk behind them. "Speaking of cover-ups... I suppose you could say we are looking for a murderer, Glenda."

She did air quotation marks upon saying the "name" and looked at the woman very pointedly because, you know, the water and drowning and stuff.

Neal was about to answer Glenda's question when Cynthia rudely interrupted. "Control yourself, woman..." He said placing a firm hand on Vegan Ladies shoulder. It was a desperate measure for a desperate time having to even touch the woman.

"We're mostly trying to find a way back to our home world. We've been staying in the old mansion about 30 minutes away, but as my companions have mentioned, some of our group have been killed since we got here"

"A murderer? Ha!" Glenda tried to choke down more laughter, and had to take a few moments to compose herself. "Who around here has time to waste on murdering? My house needs caring for." She turned an equally suspicious look back on Cynthia, and darkly commented, "I hope you weren't expecting to find your murderer here. It's very rude to come visiting your neighbors, traipsing in their yard, and accusing them of murder. I don't think such a polite young darling as yourself could be so mannerless, could you?" She turned her glance on the others. "Could any of you?"

When Neal spoke, Glenda softened a bit--well, she stopped glaring at the group, and went back to her sweeping. "That Mansion? No one lives there. I didn't think you belonged here." She pondered something for a moment, before sighing and shaking her head. "You're looking for the passage out, eh? I can't tell you where to find the door. Not my secret to keep. I just keep pieces in their place, right where they belong. Need to keep things tidy and orderly."

"Accuse you of murder? I did nothing of the sort," said Cynthia very airily, shaking Neal's hand off her shoulder. "A woman of my breeding could hardly behave in the way that you described. Anyway, I merely stared at you very hard. There is a difference."

She folded her long arms, potentially whacking those standing nearby with her trailing sleeves, but she was too focused on the task at hand to notice.

"If you can't tell us where to find the door, perhaps you can tell us what sort of door it is? I will be happy to pay you for information; Lisette packed plenty of my jewellery."