Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The conversation soon turned to current affairs, and as people redirected their attention to the food, the meal began to move on very quickly. Brown was the first to finish, and was about to get up and leave when a meaningful look from White had him carrying his empty plate and glass to the kitchen instead. Several of the others soon began to stand.

“I’ll help you two if you’re going to do the dishes,” said Blue to Red and White, “you’ve done so much work already this evening, it’s only fair that someone helps you with the rest.”

“That’s very kind of you, Blue,” said White with one of her warm smiles, “I think you and I can manage fine. Red, you can go with Pink and Yellow to the cellar.”

“I totally forgot about that,” admitted Red as he picked up as many of the bottles as he could carry, “you sure you don’t need my help?”

“Quite sure. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on whatever horrors await you underground.”

“How generous of you to part with him, White.” Pink’s slightly sharp words soon melted into her usual exaggerated enthusiasm. “Come with us, Red. Explore the dark unknown!”

“If you insist,” said Red as he headed for the kitchen with the items he was carrying, followed by Pink and Yellow with their plates and glasses.

Green scratched the back of his head as he stood up, swaying precariously and emptying the last dregs of whisky into his glass. “Don’t take too long, Blue. You owe me a game of billiards.”

“I shan’t forget.” Blue picked up as much as he could carry and headed to the kitchen with White.

“I can keep you company until then,” said Orange to Green, “I’ll pop into the library later.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Green and Orange left for the kitchen and then the billiard room, leaving only Black and Purple seated at the table, sipping their respective glasses of wine and whisky.

Once the liquid was gone from his glass, Purple set it down lightly and turned to Black. “Enjoying your evening?”

Black shifted in her seat, leaning her right shoulder against the tall back of the chair as she faced him. “You were awfully interested in what Green did at university. Almost as if you had some prior knowledge.”

Purple’s fingers played with the feather earring hanging from Black’s left ear, turning it back and forth. “Simple curiosity. If I truly were this supposed spy working for the host, I’d already know everything I needed about the people here. Why so suspicious, Black? Do you have any particular reason to distrust me?”

“Other than you cheating at cards, lying about your job, and not providing a satisfactory explanation for that car you own? No reason at all.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “And you think you’re any less intriguing?”

“Meaning?”

“Only that your story of unemployment, and several of the other ones we’ve heard, are incredibly suspect.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you say that?”

There was the smug smile. “I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”

“Well, aren’t you a tease.”

Purple stood up. “Then I won’t hold back any longer. How about a dance?”

Black’s smile showed she was trying to hold in a laugh, but the eyes that travelled up to meet Purple’s were certainly interested. “Right here? It’s a shame we don’t have any music.”

“Well, Pink did say there was a music room upstairs-”

“Please, no.” Black stood up as well. “I’ll happily dance with you. But if we’re going to, we ought to do it properly. I’ll get our masks from the hall, then we can put them on and pretend we were at a proper party tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll take our things to the kitchen.”

“Good idea, refill our drinks while you’re at it.”

They both exited the room, Purple heading for the kitchen and Black to the table in the centre of the main hall. Footsteps on the stairs caught her attention and she looked up to see Brown walking towards his room, the book of Romantic poetry in one hand and his room key ready in the other. She put on the raven mask and twirled the snake one with both hands as she returned to the dining room. It was hard not to appreciate the craftsmanship of the mask; the texture with its delicate grooves produced an impressive replica of scales.

When Purple returned, he set their drinks down before Black threw him the mask, which he caught with ease and adorned. Both of them headed to the centre of the room, staying parallel to each other as the click of Black’s stilettos and the tap of Purple’s Italian shoes echoed around the room. Eventually they drew together, Purple’s left hand coming to rest on her upper back and Black’s hand gripping his shoulder. They interlaced fingers with their left hands, stepping slowly from side to side.

“So Black,” one of Purple’s fingers was caressing the back of her hand, “enjoying the evening?”

“You already asked that. But I’ll answer anyway.” She took a few seconds to ponder. “It’s been fascinating. I haven’t minded hiding behind an assigned name as much as you’d think. It’s been alarmingly easy. Probably because this outfit suits me so well, wouldn’t you say?”

“You look beautiful. Our host has been most generous.”

“Hardly. They’re playing a game with us.”

“Yet we play along.” His smile had faded. “You more so than most. I don’t know whether to admire or pity you for pretending to care about Orange.”

Black merely tutted. “Jealousy is unattractive, Purple. Such harsh assumptions only indicate dishonesty on your part. Orange is perfectly pleasant, and the tragedy of wasted potential never fails to gain my sympathy. For obvious reasons.”

“Because you were laid off, you mean? I fail to understand why, if you were as good at your job as you claim.”

She took a slight step back, and was silent for a moment before she asked, “Would you allow me a twirl?”

They raised their interlocked hands, and Black stepped out of her heels so she could perform several elegant spins. She then slipped back into her shoes and looked up at him, her dark lips smiling as if they had never ceased doing so.

“It was favouritism. And that’s all I’ll say on the topic.” Glancing at his scar, she smirked as she added, “Bitcoin must be a dangerous business.”

“Yes. For the uninformed.”

“Which our host certainly isn’t.” Black’s fingers slipped from Purple’s shoulder onto the edge of the snake mask he wore. “Do you think they’ll show up tomorrow?”

“Whether they do or not, we’ll have a better picture of their intent.”

“That’s true.” Black began to smooth down the mask’s imitation scales as she continued, “If no one shows up by lunchtime tomorrow, I’m leaving. The invitation was intriguing, but being kept waiting like this is irritating.” She pulled one of the scales from its tether, letting it drift to the floor like a wilted petal.

Purple observed the falling fabric, letting it conclude its trajectory before he spoke. “You may wish to leave it a little longer. The letter simply stated that we were to travel here and await the host’s arrival. There was no indication of when said arrival would occur. Besides, without WiFi, there isn’t much chance of them providing an update.”

“The host in question also knows every detail about us down to our financial status and clothing size. You think they don’t know our fucking phone numbers?” Black ceased to sway, straightening to say, “Oh, lack of signal I suppose, so on and so forth. But I’m glad you mentioned the letter. I was considering rereading mine, to see if there were any revealing details I overlooked.”

Purple smiled, just slightly. “Are you intending to head upstairs now? If it would make things less tedious, I could keep you company while you search.”

“How could I refuse?” Black held out her arm, and Purple linked his through it. “The letter…was yours handwritten?”

“Typed. No signature.”

“The same.” As they each collected their drinks, Black added an afterthought. “Do you believe personality traits can be shown through handwriting?”

“Graphology, you mean?” This was said with a chuckle. “Not a believer, I’m afraid.”

“Any particular reason?”

“It’s unreliable, but also inefficient. The words themselves say far more about a writer’s character than the way they’re written. Besides, how many handwritten letters do you get these days?”

“You’ve got a point. I wonder if Blue considers it credible. Perhaps I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

Yellow offered Pink his arm as they stood side by side, waiting for Red to open the cellar trapdoor. It was no small feat; the stiff bronze key, despite already sitting in the lock, required several aggressive anticlockwise turns. As Red changed position from a squat to kneeling down, Pink nudged Yellow in the side.

“What do you think we’ll find down there?”

“Realistically?” Yellow contemplated for a few seconds. “All kinds of useless junk.”

Pink adopted one of her signature disapproving frowns. “You’re an artist. You aren’t supposed to be realistic.” She reached under the feather boa to scratch the back of her neck, her face brightening as she contemplated the unknown. “I reckon…we’ll see treasures the former residents of this house couldn’t bear the thought of selling. Things like old paintings, jewellery – maybe even a journal or two! Imagine what secrets those might conceal.”

Red jerked his hand away with a grunt as the key bested him once again. “If that’s what you think, why didn’t you try to get in here earlier?”

“Because adventures are meant to be shared!” Pink replied, beaming with pride at her succinct response.

Yellow brushed the tip of his nose against her mostly bare shoulder. “Is this a scene from one of your childhood fables, my dear?”

“It should be, shouldn’t it?” Her gaze drifted to the middle distance as she became lost in contemplation. “Now I think about it, animals were the heroes of so many children’s stories. And look at us now!”

A brief silence preceded Red’s response. “Because we’ve been given animal costumes, you mean?”

“Yes, exactly! I suspect there might be some moral to all this too. One we’ll only realise when we reach the end.”

Red turned to her, suddenly intrigued. “Like a social experiment, you mean? What the hell, why didn’t I think of that?” He slapped his forehead. “That makes so much sense.”

Yellow was frowning, his neat moustache stretched horizontally. “I’m afraid I must beg further explanation. What is the conclusion that evades me?”

Pink gave a performative cough, her slender hands gesturing to accompany her enthusiastic speech. “Essentially, we’ve all got a role to play in discovering what’s really going on here. We all have to accept and embrace that purpose, or else we’ll be left devoid of character development and unlikely to feature in the sequel.”

“I think you misunderstood, Pink,” Red said as he resumed battle with the ancient key, “Yellow was asking about my social experiment theory, not what you said about this being similar to kids’ stories.”

“But he was facing me!” Pink rounded on Yellow with feigned indignation. “Surely that meant you were speaking to me.”

“Unfortunately, not in this instant. I set eyes upon you simply because you are a far more pleasant sight than the other individual currently in my presence.”

“Yellow, you’re so thoughtful.” She spoke without a trace of sarcasm, proceeding to mimic Yellow by addressing Red without looking at him. “What did you mean about social…somethings?”

“Forget it.” A few harsh tugs at the key brought Red an overdue victory. “We’re in.”

He heaved open the trapdoor, muttered, “you two better not lock me in,” and descended narrow wooden steps into the darkened room below.

“Well?” called an impatient Yellow.

“I hope you’re not pocketing the valuables, Red!” Pink chimed in.

“There’s literally nothing here. Literally. Come down and see.”

Yellow stepped forward, offering Pink a hand to help her down. Once all three of them stood in the cellar, it became apparent the room was nothing if not underwhelming. The stone walls and stale tiles formed a perfect square, an empty grey box. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture, not even a discarded childhood toy or photo album.

 “Oh.” Dejected, Pink sniffed, which could have been a response to disappointment or the abundance of dust and cobwebs. “But mother’s adventure stories were so beautiful.”

“What a pity.” Yellow’s chin came to rest on his fist. “This room is useless.” His fingers tapped against his cheek with lazy indifference. “But there is little to be done. Some things are born devoid of purpose.”

Red responded, “you don’t know that. This cellar must have been used for something once.”

“Yet now it decays, ancient and decrepit. You may wish to remain, but I have certainly seen enough.” Yellow began climbing the steps, hastily followed by Pink, who was holding up her skirts to spare them from grime.

Once they were out, Pink leaned back towards the trapdoor and called, “Red? Are you coming?”

“Don’t bother,” murmured Yellow, “undoubtedly he will linger just to prove he alone can see potential in that dump.”

“Or he might be looking for secret passages! Besides, it’s not so bad to be an idealist, surely,” she said, placing a soothing hand on Yellow’s sleeve. “I mean, you’re an artist, Yellow. That means you have to believe in the…oh, what’s the word…transformative potential of any space. After all, you look at a blank canvas and picture something beautiful! Would it be so bad to believe the same of a neglected basement?”

Yellow appraised her in silence, then responded with deliberate leisure. “I suspect you do not truly speak of inanimate objects, my dear. But fear not. Art can also be subtle in its metaphors.”

Pink frowned slightly, but made no effort to reply, instead trying to force her scarlet lips into a convincing pout, which only caused further discomfort. Red’s return from the cellar prompted her shoulders to sag in blatant relief.

“Well, I don’t think it was a waste of time.” Red heaved the trapdoor shut behind him, but didn’t turn the key in the lock. “Like Pink said, we had an adventure. And now we can say with confidence that we’ve explored the whole house.”

“To what end?” Yellow’s hands were clasped behind his back, every movement of his mouth copied by his groomed moustache. “We were called here for an interview, not a treasure hunt.”

“Well, for one thing, we know our mystery host isn’t hiding in here.”

Yellow took on a pitying tone. “Why ever would he hide?”

Pink added, “Or she!”

“Because if you were pulling a prank, you’d…actually, if there were cameras…” As he trailed off, Red began glancing around the hall with unease, eventually concluding, “look, you guys have a lovely evening, sleep well,” and headed towards the kitchen.

“Bye, Red!” called Pink, waving to his retreating back before turning to Yellow with renewed fervour. “Isn’t he sweet? Our mysterious mastermind really did choose well with him, you know. His devotion to exploring the cellar, it’s just like-”

“A fox rummaging through bins.”

“You read my mind! Please do that more often. It’d be great if you could finish my sentences all the time, then I wouldn’t have to waste so much energy speaking.”

One of Yellow’s shiny shoes was tapping against the wooden floor. “To what cause would your energy be diverted?”

“Oh, good question. Now you mention it, I’m not entirely sure.” Pink began to comb her fingers through her hair, separating the strands with scarlet fingernails that matched her lips. “Probably something to do with modelling. It was what I was paid for, after all.”

As Pink finished this sentence, Black and Purple emerged from the dining room, their masks on and arms linked together, each of their spare hands clasping a glass. Purple smiled cordially upon seeing the two of them, whereas Black let out a pitying sigh as her gaze settled on Yellow.

“Mr. Artistic. I hope you’re not still bribing Pink into being your next unfortunate subject.”

Pink was doing her utmost not to look in Black’s direction, feigning an abrupt interest in the pale feathers that still hung from her neck. Yellow folded his arms as he declared, “you dismiss the unknown too easily, madam. Pink is to sit for a portrait of mine tomorrow, and the result should leave you in no doubt about the quality of my work.”

Purple was about to retort, but Black raised a hand to stop him. “What a generous offer, coming from the hypocrite who called me incompetent to my face. Don’t worry, Yellow. After I look at whatever stick figure you’ve managed, I’ll be sure to state my opinion only in your absence. Sleep well.”

“I’m sure you will,” muttered Yellow as Black and a smirking Purple passed him. As they ascended the stairs, Purple could be heard saying, “he was talking about this portrait of his earlier. Intends to pose Pink to mimic Coppélia.”

“Fuck’s sake. She’ll look more like Chucky by the time he’s finished.”

The two of them turned the corner and vanished from sight. Yellow cleared his throat and made a point of brushing down his waistcoat, as if close proximity to Black had somehow contaminated him.

Pink finally looked up, one hand anxiously rubbing the back of her neck as she whispered, “you are going to make me beautiful…aren’t you?”

“There will be no need to invent, for I need only mimic the beauty you already possess.” Yellow took hold of her free hand. “I apologise if that exchange unsettled you. Tomorrow, after my portrait is complete, we will be rid of all such cynicism, I assure you. You saw my landscape work earlier today. Did it in any way fail to capture the reality of our surroundings?”

“Not at all. It was flawless.” Pink sounded more cheerful. “Please forgive me, it’s not that I doubted you, it’s just…criticism can be so uncomfortable, even one little thing. Once said, it sort of sticks and you think you’ve got away but then it comes back to you just when things are finally going well, if you know what I mean.”

“All too well.” Yellow took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle kiss. “I’m glad you’re here, Pink.”

“I’m glad I’m here too! And I’m so glad that I feel the need to subdue my joy with a good book.” Pink paused, then added, “you can come with me, if you like.”

“Actually, I think I’ll look in on the billiard game. If either of them are playing properly, I’ll be amazed.”

“Then I shall see you tomorrow for my portrait. It’s exciting being able to refer to myself, as ‘the subject’ – much more sophisticated than just being filmed.” She skipped off towards the library. “Bye Yellow!”

Red entered the kitchen to find White and Blue loading the dishwasher.

“How are you guys getting on?”

White glanced up, smiling when she saw him. “We’re almost finished here. Anything exciting in the cellar?”

Red shook his head. “Nothing whatsoever. It was just an empty room.”

“Oh well, at least you had a look, it could’ve been something interesting.” White had her sleeves rolled up and scraped some neglected vegetables into the waste bin before sliding the plate over to Blue. “Where did the others go?”

“I left them in the hall. Yellow thought the whole thing was a waste of time and Pink said it was like an adventure. Listen, there’s something I want to run by you guys. There was this thing Pink said about there being some moral purpose to our stay here, as if this trip was set up for us to learn something, and it got me thinking – could this be a social experiment?”

That piqued Blue’s interest; he paused for a few seconds before placing a knife and fork in the dishwasher. “That’s a really good theory. I should have thought of that.”

“I know right, I thought so too. Makes a lot more sense than the crime syndicate recruitment one. But then I realised that if they are doing an experiment then they must’ve set up some cameras in here. You haven’t seen any, right?”

They both shook their heads, a thoughtful frown on White’s face. “No. But if there are any, they’d never put them anywhere we’d find them. They’re most likely to be up high in the main hall where we’d never reach them.”

“It’s possible,” said Blue as he put the last pan away and began inserting a dishwasher tablet, “but in that case they’d have to place microphones closer to the ground. The observers, whoever they may be, would want to know what we’re saying, and a camera so far away just wouldn’t work.”

“And there are all the other rooms too, not just the hall,” chimed in Red, “so however you look at it, if this is an experiment, there must be some sort of equipment within arm’s reach.”

White began to smile. “I take it we’re all thinking the same thing.”

Blue nodded. “If the host doesn’t show up first thing tomorrow…”

“Then we go on a camera hunt.” Red grinned. “The three musketeers: Red, White, and Blue. We sound like a flag.”

“We could see if the others want to join in.” White started washing her hands as she added, “well, those that are interested, anyway.”

Red observed, “That’s a nice way of saying ‘not Brown or Yellow.’ Actually, we can probably count Green out too, if he intends to drink the day away again.” His expression darkened as he added, “it’s just as well he doesn’t own a car. If he were ever to drive in that state – well, I’d rather not think about it.”

Blue nodded solemnly. “I feel bad for him. He’s undoubtedly the youngest of us, and yet here he is. To need whatever lifeline our host has offered him so early in life…he must have had some really hard times.”  

“But if this is all just some social experiment, there might not be any money after all.” White untucked several ginger hairs from her left ear, replaced them, then asked, “Green’s playing billiards now, right?”

“Yeah, with Orange, I think,” said Red. “I reckon we might get him to join our camera hunt, you know. I think he’s the type that would enjoy unravelling a mystery. And I don’t think you should worry about the money,” he added quickly, “however you look at it, this whole thing is costly. We’re guaranteed some sort of compensation.”

“One would hope so. As for Orange, I suppose he could be persuaded to join us.” Blue paused, listening to the whirr of the dishwasher before continuing. “May I be honest with you two? I’m still quite uncomfortable with being here. Your reasons are your own, but more than anything, I’d like to meet our host and find out how they know so much about us. Things they have no right to know. At the very least, this whole thing is a serious breach of data protection, not to mention our privacy.”

Red nodded. “Yeah, that’s definitely worth asking about. I mean, it’d be nice to know that stuff won’t go any further.” He glanced at White. “Not without our permission, anyway.”

She smiled at him, then turned to Blue. “You say ‘breach of data protection’ like we could sue the guy.”

“Well, yes, if the circumstances weren’t so extraordinary, it’d be worth considering. It’s like patient confidentiality, in that it’s -”

“Confidential?” finished Red.

“Exactly.”

“Hey, Blue, you didn’t happen to work with any mentally unstable patients who are currently at large and might hold a grudge against you, right?”

Blue smiled and shook his head, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Good guess, but no.” He approached the doors to the main hall. “If you two don’t mind, I’m going to give the library a look, see if I can’t find a book to take upstairs. If I don’t see you again, goodnight.”

Green staggered to the left, his remaining whisky nearly escaping the glass. Orange grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“You sure you’re okay, Green?”

“Yeah, yeah, green light, green fields, I’m fine.” As Orange stopped to open the billiard room doors, Green held up his glass to inspect it, and let out a heavy sigh. “I wish I had some ice.”

Orange turned, nervous. “Oh. Do you have a fever?”

Green downed the whisky in one go, then took several deliberate strides forward, perching on the edge of the billiard table. “Nope. For the drink.”

“Alright.” Orange stepped in after him, folding his hands in front of him and picking at a piece of dry skin. He didn’t take his eyes off Green, who had now lain down on top of the table, eyes closed as though sunbathing, one hand still cupping his empty glass. Beneath the glare of the powerful, low-hanging light fixtures, his hair, formerly dull blond, had been transformed to an exquisite gold.  

When Green spoke, he made no effort to sit up. “May I be honest with you, Orange?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Sometimes, I want to die.”

“You…want to die?” Green had spoken so casually, and Orange edged a little closer as he concluded, “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s…not good.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” With considerable effort, Green sat up and used his glass to point at Orange. “You know, you look like you could be a monk. It’s the beard, that’s what does it. Makes you look like one of those dudes in the confessional.”

“You know, I don’t think -”

“Right, religion’s not your calling, etcetera. Your talents lie elsewhere.” He now wore a lopsided smile. “Black’s pretty cool, huh?”

“What?” Orange briefly stood still, before clearing his throat and continuing, “oh, yeah, she is.”

“Whatever, man.” Green slumped back against felt just a shade lighter than the tie slipping from his neck. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure everyone knows you have a crush on her.”

Orange smiled weakly, shaking his head. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Green rolled over onto his stomach, set his glass down in front of him and picked up the cue. “I think it’s cute. Even if you don’t stand a chance.” He took aim at the stationary glass.

Moving to stand beside the table, Orange laid one hand on its edge. “Green, about what you said -”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Like I said, they already know.”

“No, I meant about you wanting to die.”

“Oh, alright.” Green hit his glass with the end of the cue, causing it to roll onto its side, nearly reaching the corner. “Hey, look at that! I could’ve scored. Told you I was good.” Pressing his cheek to the felt, he turned to Orange with a lazy smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m cool for now, and after this whole thing wraps up, we’ll all be much better off, hmm? Besides, I don’t want a therapist. Even a nice one like Blue. They talk, but they don’t really do anything.”

“Sorry if that’s been your experience.” Orange scratched at one of his jacket sleeves. “But seriously, Green, if you’re having suicidal thoughts, you really should talk to, like, a professional or something. I mean, I think Blue’s really thoughtful, but if you don’t want to talk to him maybe he could put you in touch with someone who-”

Green waved the cue as if trying to shoo a fly. “Alright, alright, enough of that. This wasn’t some fucking cry for help, okay? I was just trying to make conversation, but clearly I’m shit at that.” With a heavy sigh, he began to sit up. “I like you, though, Orange. You’re one of those sensitive types I always used to make fun of, until I started becoming one of them. In fact, I like you so much, I’ll try to guess your age.”

“Um, if you like.” Orange instinctively tried to smooth his messy chestnut locks. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I always get told I look older than I am because my forehead has all these lines, y’know.”

“I’m going to say…thirty-eight?”

“Pretty close, actually.”

“Higher or lower?”

“Lower.”

Green’s eyebrows shot up. “Now that does surprise me. Look, forget the wrinkles, it’s the beard. It ages you.”

“Oh. You really think so?”

“Mmm-hmm. My next guess, drum roll please…thirty-six.”

Orange grinned and nodded. “Thirty-seven in three weeks, though.”

Green made a show of simultaneously dropping the cue and his jaw. “No way, happy birthday! I mean, not yet obviously, but since we’ll all have left by then, I’m saying it now.”

“But we’ll stay in touch, right? Not to pressure you or anything, but I think it’d be sweet if we became one of those enviable friendship groups that only met late in life.”

“Late in life for you, maybe.”

Orange started to laugh and Green pretended to wipe his brow. “Phew, as soon as I said it I worried that might’ve been a touchy subject. Hell yeah, pal, I’d love to stay friends. Seems like that might be the only thing we’ll all get out of this anyway. Seriously, if the host doesn’t show tomorrow, I’m going to write a zero-star review and nail it to the front door.”

“Sounds great. You can have my signature.”

“I mean, seriously, where the hell are they? Going by the size of this place, you’d think they’d be flying by private jet, but just wait – when he or she or whoever finally shows their face, we’ll be hearing some bullshit story about how they were held up trying to get their two Lamborghinis through customs or something.”

An abrupt clearing of the throat caused them both to turn towards the main hall, Green hastily grabbing the cue as if for self-defence.

“Well, well.” Yellow stood in the doorway, arms folded, surveying the scene. “I must say, you two are playing the most sedentary game of billiards I have ever seen.”

“Yellow!” Green stretched out his arms, hugging the air. “You and your mysterious moustache are most welcome! I’ve already taken a superb shot, but if you feel like starting off at a loss, by all means join in.”

“Is that so.” Hands clasped behind his back, Yellow approached them with deliberate caution. “I suspect it is my duty to inform you that the cellar we were so keen to explore contained nothing of interest. Which is because, in all honesty, it contained nothing whatsoever.”

“Fuck me, I’m devasted,” Green said with an irreverent grin. “Where’s Pink, then?”

“She has elected to peruse the library next to us.” Yellow glanced towards the connecting door, which was presently closed. “Chances of her finding anything of interest are next to none. This place is a farce. Our anonymous benefactor has neglected us all, and here, I find myself subjected to disdain and dismissals far harsher than any critic would dare utter.”

His brow furrowed, Orange sounded concerned. “I’m sorry if anyone made you feel that way, Yellow. Speaking for myself, I definitely wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I mean, I’m sure your art’s good and -”

Yellow’s gaze had fallen to the carmine carpet. “You didn’t hear her just now. She called me inadequate! Acted as if a mere child could draw better, when she hasn’t even deigned to lay eyes on my work.” He let out a frustrated huff, then directed his dispirited stare to the left of the main hall. A vase of tulips stood atop a small table in the room’s dark corner – an image which likely resonated with Yellow. “Her attire was most fitting indeed. That lady is exactly the type I can imagine pecking at a corpse.”

Green started to laugh. “Fucking hell, are we talking about Black again?”

“Why, has she irked you too?”

“No, it’s just that Orange here can’t shut up about her.”

Yellow’s eyes raised heavenward, as Orange’s widened in panic. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Green clapped a hand to his mouth, before shrugging as he mused, “yeah, I did say that, but I also said everyone already knew, which is one hundred percent true, for your information. Yellow, wasn’t it totally obvious that Orange fancies Black?”

Yellow uttered a pitying sigh, folding his arms. “Your so-called affection is a lost cause. Black has already found herself a worthy playmate in the pernickety Purple. Pink and I saw them heading upstairs together only a few minutes ago.”

Orange seemed to wilt, his posture sagging like a branch about to fall. “I mean, that doesn’t surprise me. They were getting along really well, and obviously see things the same way. Like, similar sense of humour and stuff.” Meeting Yellow’s dark eyes, he quickly added, “and I didn’t like her like that to begin with.”

Green scratched his neck, his hand vanishing into his blond hair. “That’s just as well. You’re about a decade older than her anyway.”

Yellow nodded. “Put her from your thoughts. Having no room in one’s heart for the finer things is an indication of a most disagreeable mindset.”

Green held up one hand, palm facing the artist. “Look, I have to put in a word for her here. You were kinda shit-talking her at dinner, saying she got fired because she wasn’t good at her job. I mean, if you’d said that about me, I would’ve been like,” he mimed sparring, “fight me you fucker!”

“You don’t have a job yet. And don’t tell me you two weren’t thinking the same thing. There’s no way she would’ve been made redundant if she were as skilled as she claims.”

Orange folded his arms. “Why not? It happened to my dad.” Softly, he added, “I didn’t bring it up at dinner ‘cause I thought it would’ve been weird, like I was begging for sympathy after talking about how I wasn’t a good comedian. But things were really hard for my mum after. They’re not together anymore.”

Green sounded genuinely sympathetic. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“Thanks. It’s ok though. He wasn’t always the nicest.” Orange attempted a more enthusiastic smile, the hairs of his long beard shifting to accommodate it. “It’s just me and my mum now.”

“You guys live together?”  

“Yeah. I’m really lucky to have her. And I know the money from this would help, a lot. I was wondering, like, are you guys here to help someone else too?”

Surprisingly, Yellow spoke first, his voice solemn. “Actually, yes. In a manner of speaking. I had a close friend. Another artist. We understood one another. But he died far too young, his work unappreciated. While I have every intention of using the money to help myself, I want to put on an exhibition of his work. Ensure it garners the applause it deserves.”

“Yellow, that’s really nice.” Orange reached a hand towards him, then withdrew it, unsure whether to offer comfort. “I’m sorry about your friend. If it’s ok to ask…how did he die?”

The artist hung his head, turning away from the others and walking to the vase of tulips, pinching one of its violet petals between his fingers. “Cancer.”

Green looked more attentive; he had adjusted his position and now sat cross-legged. “Yellow, that’s horrible. I know how awful it is to lose someone you really love.” Like Yellow, he also stared down into his lap, as if ashamed. “I lost my person too. This wonderful girl. We thought we were going to spend our whole lives together. But…she…it didn’t work out like that.”

“It never does, does it?” Yellow plucked the petal from the flower, and it drifted to the carpet; a disfigured teardrop settling atop the bold carmine. “We never get to keep anything we care about. Even this place, with all its luxury, has taken our names. So much of reality is perception, and every day, I see less and less proof of my existence.”

Both of them looked up as they heard Orange open the connecting door to the library. “Guys, I’m just going to check out the books. It’s not that I don’t want to leave – I mean, you two have got stuff to discuss, I can tell, and as much as I’d like to be part of that-”

“This is all too heavy for you. No worries, man, see you tomorrow.” Green waved him off, and Yellow said goodbye with a curt nod.

Orange closed the door behind him, and weaved through a few shelves to reach the centre of the library. He jumped, startled at the sight of Pink lounging in an accent chair.

“Orange, fancy seeing you here!” She jumped up, but hesitated upon seeing his face. “Oh no, is something wrong?”

“Well, it’s just…” Orange sniffed, scratching his neck. “So many of us here have been through so many hardships. We’ve lost friends, and family, and jobs, and we’re just normal people, you know? Just trying to do our best. And there are so many more people out there who are going through the exact same thing.” He looked behind him, back towards the billiard room. “Green and Yellow are in there, we were talking about this kinda stuff, and I just realised, I wish I could tell them that it gets better, but it honestly doesn’t. At least, not from what I’ve seen.”

“Aw, Orange.” Pink’s eyes widened and the corners of her lips dipped down. “Do you want a hug? Here, I’ll give you one.” She swept her arms around him, encasing Orange in delicate feathers and the scent of Dior perfume. “It’s alright, really! You don’t have to worry about them. Yellow’s a really talented artist. You’ll see it for yourself tomorrow, he’s going to draw a beautiful picture of me. And Green…well, he’s a little reckless, but he seems capable. He’s got that journalistic spirit, you know? He'll write his way to stardom, have no fear!”

Orange withdrew from the hug, looking at her sadly. “What about me?”

Pink frowned. “What about you?”

“What am I going to do?”

She brushed the ends of her feather boa across his cheeks, even though he hadn’t been crying. “Well, I’m not really sure. Once you’ve got the money, you shouldn’t need to work again. But if you insist on it, I’m sure you can hire a good careers counsellor.”

“Hello, you two.” Blue entered the library, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Found any good books yet?”

“Not really. I was just consoling Orange here. He’s feeling a bit nihilistic.”

Blue turned to Orange with concern, who instantly shook his head. “No, that’s not – I’m fine, seriously, I just need a few minutes.” He gave Blue an obliging smile and disappeared behind a nearby bookshelf, heading for the back corner of the library.

Pink beamed at Blue. “I guess that just leaves the two of us.”

He returned her warm smile. “It certainly does.” He sat in the closest chair, and Pink adjourned to her seat opposite him.

Glancing behind her, she began, “you know what they say: you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themself. Although I suppose you know that already, being a psychologist and all. I did try with all my ads and interviews, but no one ever seemed to appreciate my help. It was such a shame. But I am definitely glad to be here, with such a colourful crowd.”

“That’s been clear to me from the start. It’s lovely to have you here, Pink. I think you’ve really brightened the mood.”

“Really? Thanks, I’m very happy to hear that! What about you, Blue, are you happy to be here? Are you excited to make some new friends?”

He responded with a genial shrug. “I guess we’ll see. I’d certainly be willing to make a new friend, if I felt that’s where things were going. But you’ve already made a friend, right? You and Yellow seem very close, and we’ve only been here one evening.”

“Oh, you noticed, did you?” Pink pressed a hand to her lips, half-hiding a giddy smile. “Well, I’m not sure ‘friends’ is the right term, not when we have such a unique connection. I mean it, he and I have a lot in common. He appreciates fashion and glamour and style. And he always wants to admire me and make me feel beautiful. Most people just act like I’m some annoying child, but that’s because they’ve lost sight of their childhood joy. Like Orange here – if you’re listening, I’m sorry things went so sour. Ooh, clever pun, well done to me. Yellow isn’t like that. He sees my potential and will help me achieve it. Plus, you can tell he’s lonely. No wonder he’s so drawn to pretty things.”

“But is that all you want, Pink? To be a ‘pretty thing,’ forever?”

“Why, should I have a more boring aspiration?” She leaned forward in the chair, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “To be one of your clients, perhaps?”

Blue didn’t hold her gaze, his eyes trailing down her chest before sinking to the carpet. “I don’t think that would work.”

“I don’t think it would work, either.” Pink lounged back, folding her arms behind her head. “I know your kind of work is very essential. But you’re just trying to make everyone the same, right? To turn them all normal.”

“No, not at all.” Blue clasped his hands together, shuffling forwards in his seat. “Everyone is different. Being a psychologist isn’t about trying to make them all the same. It’s about helping people understand why they act the way they do, by diagnosing disorders where appropriate, and assisting them with establishing a healthier and more stable lifestyle by providing ways to cope with those conditions.”

“Wow, those were a lot of long words. But all I heard was ‘stable,’ which means ‘not crazy,’ which means the opposite of normal.” Pink stood with a flourish of her feather boa, and inclined her head with a teasing smile. “But you could change my mind, with a little effort. How about you find a nice book on psychology, and I’ll sit here and rest my eyes while you read to me?”

Blue shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Didn’t you say you disliked being treated like a child?”

A look of brief surprise crossed Pink’s face, then her smile widened. “Clever doctor. I can see you’ve played this game before.” She gave him a quick curtsy, then retreated behind a bookshelf, imitating the grace of the flamingo whose costume she wore.

“Let’s stop in the music room,” said Black, turning to the right as she reached the first floor. “I need to retrieve my key.”

“Retrieve it? You don’t have it on you?”

Black entered the music room through the closest door, and lifted the lid on the piano keyboard to reveal her key. Holding it up, she explained, “this is what happens when people design dresses without pockets. I put it here before coming downstairs, since I didn’t bring a handbag, and leaving it in the keyhole seemed idiotic when there were so many unemployed people around. Any of you lot could have decided to rob me. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to wear something that does have pockets.”

Purple remained in the doorway, tilting the glass in his hand so the ice slid around as he chuckled. “You thought they were going to rob you?”

Black placed a hand on her hip. “Is it so hard to believe? As soon as someone spread the word about me having a Mercedes, I could have been a target. Same goes for you, actually, with that nice BMW. Just because people came here in response to a stranger’s summons and the idea of some great scheme doesn’t mean they won’t take short cuts for money.”

He opted for a blunt response. “No, it’s just a little ironic - when you first showed up, I thought you might’ve been a thief.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Rather a far-fetched assumption, don’t you think?”

“I agree, considering that I’d only just met you.”

“And what do you think now?”

Purple leaned against the doorframe. “I think it’s an awful lot more likely.”

Black closed the lid of the piano carefully, making sure not to scratch the keyboard with her key. “You clearly weren’t paying attention at dinner. I had a very well-paying job, and no need to steal anything.”

Purple’s smile remained. “Then why take offence at a mere joke?”

Black quickly recovered, regaining her own smirk. “For the sake of argument, naturally. And with that said, you’re hardly in a position to interrogate me about my career, not when you were so eager to dodge questions about your own.”

The only response Purple gave was an infuriating quirk of his eyebrow, and he followed Black as she exited the room through the doors that opened onto the adjacent corridor. Holding her wine glass out of the way, Black unlocked room nine and the two moved inside, Purple closing the door behind him. The window on the opposite wall had its red curtains pushed to the side, leaving the room exposed to delicate blades of moonlight, the sole source of illumination given that neither person made any effort to flip the light switch.

With her back to Purple, Black walked forward, placing her room key atop the fitted desk on her left as she stepped out of her stilettos. She made her way to the right side of the room and fell back into an armchair that stood opposite the king-sized bed. As the chair was within the gaze of the moon outside, the light that coated her gave her skin an almost platinum glow, and the ring on her right hand glistened proudly. Purple took off his jacket and draped it across the desk before sitting down on the edge of the bed, entirely shrouded in shadow. Even the glass he still held, and the ice inside it, remained hidden.

For several moments the two of them drank in the silence along with their alcohol. Eventually, Purple placed his glass with only the ice remaining on the floor and removed his shoes and socks while hardly making a sound.

Black took a further sip from her glass; she was savouring the wine far more than necessary. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’ll only hear this from me once, but you really are exquisite. With the lighting in here, you almost look like a mosaic. It suits you.”

“I take it that’s meant to be a compliment?”

“It certainly wasn’t a complaint.” Purple leaned forward, bringing the upper half of his body into the light. “I don’t imagine you can say anything nice to me without sounding sarcastic.”

“Challenge accepted.” Black finally emptied her wine glass and set it down on the table beside the armchair. “Would you like to hear what’s so attractive about you?”

“Go ahead. I assume it’s the mystery of the scar.”

“I’m a little more creative than that.” She sank against the back of the chair and stretched out her arms on the rests. “You’ll think it a strange comparison, but you remind me of a freshly extinguished candle. I can’t help loving that aroma - enticing and foreboding. Rather like you.” She paused, then laughed. “Did I actually just say that? I must be more drunk than I thought.”

“About that, I’m interested to test my own scent palette. May I?”

Black held out her left arm. “Go ahead.”

Purple slid off the edge of the bed and kneeled at the foot of the armchair as he gently took hold of her arm and inhaled near her wrist.

“I understand why Orange said this reminded him of pastry. Ginger, cinnamon – I suspect gingerbread, with a touch of spun sugar.”

Removing her arm from his hand, Black began undoing the clasp and bands that were holding her hair in its neat bun. “I’m afraid that wasn’t much of a challenge for you, though I’m impressed nonetheless.” Placing her hair ornaments on the table, she shook her enviable dark locks loose, letting them front of her shoulders.

Purple looked thoughtful. “I must admit, it’s not the kind of fragrance I expected you to wear.”

“You probably thought I’d be the type for an expensive brand, like Pink with her Dior. Make no mistake, this is still expensive, just not a famous brand.”

Purple nodded. “It’s an interesting comparison. Pink’s perfume appeals to aspiration, a lifestyle that’s always just out of reach. Yours appeals to nostalgia, a simpler life, a time of forgotten innocence.” For the first time since becoming visible to Black, Purple averted his eyes from her for a few seconds. “It begs the question: what do we most long for? The things we once had, or the ones we never will?”

Black ran her fingers through her hair before starting to remove her feather earrings. “That’s hardly a fair debate. Not everyone has something worth missing.”

Purple shook his head. “Once they’ve suffered something that makes them wish for the ignorance they once had, then they do.”

Black was silent for a while as she set the earrings down on the table. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Illusion over reality and all that.”

Purple reached behind him and pulled his glass over, setting it on the floor beside the armchair as he removed one of the ice cubes. He used it to trace the path of the scar on his cheek, explaining, “I apologise for this, but I do tire of scratching it, especially in your presence. Unfortunately, this scar is a necessary irritant, one which I doubt will ever truly heal.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not as much as it should. I imagine I deserve it, and it does rather suit me.”

“That I can’t refute.” Black rested her head in her hands as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Do you mind? My lips are parched.”

Purple took on a tone of mock pity. “Must be all the wine you’ve had.” He removed the ice from his face and used it to caress Black’s lips, coating them with a layer of liquid that glistened in the moonlight. “Your lipstick is rather persistent.”

Black’s tongue crept out to lick up some of the water sneaking down her chin. “I’m aware. You’ll have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of it.” As what remained of the cube of ice was placed in the centre of her lips, she pressed a quick kiss to it, holding Purple’s gaze.

Purple took hold of Black’s right hand in his left, pulling her to her feet with unexpected strength. “Hold this for me,” he instructed, and Black was quick to interpret, opening her mouth just enough to allow him to place the cube between her teeth. Placing his hands on Black’s shoulders, he turned her around so he could undo the tiny buttons on the back of her dress, revealing fair skin that shone like polished pottery. Purple gave a gentle tug on Black’s hair to prompt her to face him again, and as she did, she pressed her mouth to his, bringing with her the scent of sugar and spice and thoughts not so nice.

The ice was now gone, its only residue eagerly consumed by Purple as he kissed her lips. Black fought back, her tongue competing with his as she pulled down her loose dress. Purple quickly took over this task, gripping it with firm but careful hands that guided it down and off her body. As the dress pooled around her ankles, Black shifted her attention to Purple’s tie, loosening the knot even as she began to take the lead in their fight, pushing Purple’s tongue back and edging forward into his domain. Yet this victory was short lived, as Purple bit down on her tongue lightly, not enough to cause lasting pain but nonetheless enough to force a retreat.

Black feigned a frown as she ran her fingers over his loosened tie. “That was naughty.”

Purple brought her right hand up to his mouth and kissed her ring, letting his eyes drift over how her chest and legs looked in her black lace underwear. She was almost too perfect, like a mannequin. “Forgive me.”

“If I must.”

 Purple began to unbutton his shirt and its cuffs as Black removed his tie and fastened it around her own neck, tying a bow. Underwear soon discarded, they fell back upon the bed, Purple taking one of her nipples in his mouth, her other breast in his grip as Black kissed his neck, occasionally withdrawing her lips to let out an eager moan.

She threw a leg over his chest and straddled him, Purple’s hands sliding down towards her hips. But when she took attempted to slide onto his cock, he pulled back.

Black guessed the reason for his hesitation. “It’s fine. I’m on the pill.”

“You should’ve said so sooner.” With ease, Purple threw her beneath him, thrusting into her, his head on the pillow beside hers. One of Black’s arms was around his neck, the other clutching the bedsheets as her moans became more ecstatic, whereas Purple attempted to stifle his exclamations against Black’s bare shoulder. As they climaxed, they looked at each other, mouths open as if to swallow unspoken words.

Black took hold of Purple’s hand. She whispered, “Tell me why you’re really here.”

His thumb traced the gem of the ring she still wore. “I might. If you don’t leave tomorrow.”

“Well, that I can’t promise.” She brought her lips to his ear. “Stay with me tonight. If you’re not afraid you’ll confess in your sleep.”

Purple chuckled. “Why did they ever invent torture when you exist?”

“Hey, I really appreciate everything you said earlier.” White cautiously took hold of Red’s hand. “I know it can’t have been easy for you.”

Red gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “You’re a great listener. Sorry for being so negative. I don’t want to think the worst of everyone here. Like, sure, we’ve got a few assholes, but overall, they do seem nice. I mean, take Blue, he was just helping you clean up, and he was really thoughtful earlier; he didn’t want to get into psychoanalysing people behind their backs. I don’t want to believe he might’ve done something bad to end up here.” He glanced down at the tiled floor. “But you can never really know someone.”

White’s free hand traced one of the cyan streaks in Red’s dark hair. “I’d like to get to know you. Once we leave – if you don’t decide to disappear. The real you, when we’re not White and Red anymore.”

“White and Red,” he echoed, his lips forming a sad smile. “Now Blue’s gone, we sound more like blood and bandages.”

“Ugh, hospitals.” White scrunched up her face. “Not a fan.”

“Agreed.” Red let go of her hand. “I was actually visiting one a few weeks ago. I think the worst part is-”

“Hang on.” White held up a hand to stop him, distracted by something over his shoulder. Red turned around and automatically took a wary step back at the sight of Yellow moving towards them at pace.

He came to a sudden stop, holding out one hand like a server awaiting a credit card as he addressed White. “Might I procure a glass of water? To say that Green is in dire need of rehydration would be an understatement.”

“Of course.” White hurried to grab a clean glass and fill it from the tap.

“Shit, where is he? Is he ok?” Red’s discomfort had quickly given way to concern.

“Still in the billiard room. He made a poor attempt to get off the table and is now refusing to stand up.”

“Damn. We have to help him.” Red started to follow Yellow across the hall, shooting an anxious look at White, who followed as quickly as she could without spilling the water.

They entered the billiard room to find Green slumped against one of the table legs. He’d managed to remove his jacket, but the sluggish attempt to loosen his tie was only accomplishing the opposite.

He grinned lazily when he saw them. “Ah, the ambulance has arrived.”

White knelt beside him, offering the water. “Green, drink this.”

He grabbed the glass and took a greedy gulp, only to splutter most of it into his lap. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” He took a measured sip this time, then another. “No, really, I’m sorry. For being a fucking idiot and making this weird evening extra fucking uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” White used the sleeve of Green’s discarded jacket to wipe the spilled water from his chin. “We just want you to be ok.”

“And preferably not vomit on such a nice carpet,” chimed in Yellow, who was monitoring the situation from the doorway.

Red crouched down and reached for Green’s tangled tie. “Hold still, I’ll sort this out.”

Green stared at the half empty glass, murmuring, “why does this always happen? I drink, I think, ‘this is fun,’ I keep drinking, and even when I know it’s too much, I keep going because I just don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.”  

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have come here.” Red had unknotted the tie, and lifted the fabric over Green’s head.

Green forced a heavy laugh. “I told myself that. But then I thought, maybe I’ve just come here because I want the closure, and once I’ve got that it’ll be ok to give up.”

“Closure?” White glanced at Red before asking, “what does that mean?”

“It means that my life has been full of nothing but tragedy and shitty people and nothing could ever make it worthwhile, so you guys should just stop trying before I find a way to ruin you too.” He took a few more glugs of water, emptying the glass, then shifted his weight to his knees. “I will now stand up.”

Red was instantly on his feet, reaching for Green’s arm. “Let me help.” Green dismissed him with a wave, rising to his feet, but then stumbled into Red’s waiting arms as he almost fell forward.

“Guess I set myself up for that.” He gave Red’s shoulder an awkward pat. “You were right earlier, when you said I’d had too much already. If I weren’t such a wreck, we could have been friends, man. But you’d never get me to quit drinking.”

“Look, we’ll worry about all that tomorrow.” Red shifted position so he was holding Green’s right arm across his shoulders, and began walking into the main hall. “Here, lean on me.”

“Fuck, I hate that song. Did you guys have to sing that in school too?” As they passed the table on which the animal masks had been discarded, Green broke into noisy song. “Lean on me, when you’re not strong, I’ll be your friend…”

Yellow, following at a safe distance, wrinkled his nose. “What tedious state school did you attend?”

“Aw, come on Yellow, stop pretending you don’t have a heart,” Green called over his shoulder, as Blue and Orange appeared at the library doors.

Blue looked mildly concerned as he surveyed the procession of people making slow progress towards the stairs. “Is everything alright?”

“I think we’re ok, thanks,” said White, “Red’s just helping Green get upstairs.”

“Do you need any help?” Orange stepped forward, though his words conveyed limited enthusiasm.

Green gave him a salute as he passed. “The psychologist and the monk. They’re, like, the deadly duo of confession." He raised his free arm as he and Red began climbing the stairs, and loudly proclaimed, “in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti!”

Orange blurted, “Wow, he’s really drunk.”

“I have to agree,” said Blue, though he couldn’t help smiling at Green’s words of farewell. “I think I’ll also turn in for the night.”

White noticed his empty hands. “You didn’t find a book?”

“No, I didn’t actually spend much time looking at the shelves.”

“He got talking to Pink,” clarified Orange, with a glance over his shoulder at the library’s maze of shelves. “She’s in there somewhere.”

Yellow ran a hand over his sleek dark hair. “Talking about what, may I ask?”

Blue answered without looking at him. “How we feel about this place, mostly. Shall we, Orange?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” The two of them took to the stairs, soon catching up to the others, who were unlocking the door to room six. As they passed, Blue apologised to Green for missing their billiards game, suggesting that they reschedule tomorrow, to which Green murmured an unconvincing agreement.

“I hope he’ll be alright.” White sounded anxious as she watched Red help Green into his room, Blue and Orange now moving out of sight as they headed towards their own rooms in the left corridor. “He’ll probably feel awful tomorrow.”

“I have no doubt.” Yellow’s hands were clasped behind his back as he observed alongside her. “But at least we can anticipate some clarity once our host arrives.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

Yellow turned to her and spoke with abrupt reverence. “Allow me to reiterate my thanks for the lovely dinner you crafted. Art takes many forms, and that meal was certainly one.”

White smiled. “Thanks, that’s really kind of you. And it was a pleasure, I mean, Red helped me prepare the meal. It was nice to do something that cheered everyone up.”

Glancing at the door of Green’s room, Yellow mused, “you and Red certainly seem the most helpful of our little group. It has occurred to me that I may have been unjustly dismissive when I first encountered him, but I was not entirely at fault. After all, I had simultaneously encountered one most divine – it was only natural that the presence of another individual would be somewhat irksome.”

“Well, if you want to start over with Red, I’m sure he’ll hear you out. He’s a lovely guy. Maybe wait until tomorrow though, he’ll be tired after taking care of Green.”

“You are wise indeed, White.” Yellow gave her a deep bow, before starting to ascend the stairs at a brisk pace. His parting words were a call of, “I wish you pleasant dreams!”

“You too!” She was about to follow up the stairs, when to her left, she glimpsed Pink inspecting a bookcase near the library entrance. White approached her with a wave. “Hey, Pink!”

Pink glanced in White’s direction, then abruptly redirected her attention to the shelves. When she spoke, her voice was less high-pitched than it had been throughout dinner. “Oh, hello.”

White stood a few feet from her. “Have you found anything interesting?”

“Hmm? Oh, not really.” As if to illustrate her point, Pink selected a random volume – a global atlas – and began to flick through the pages, her dark curls poised just above them.

“Are you feeling tired?” White touched a hand to her own hair, feeling the many strands beginning to slip from her bun. “Surprisingly, I am. What with everything that’s happened today: coming here, meeting everyone, discussing what’s going on – I would never have expected it, but I’m actually -”

Pink interrupted. “No, I’m not tired. I probably won’t be for at least another few hours. I always end up lying awake for ages.” Delicately, she closed the atlas. “And fidgeting. Lots of fidgeting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” White stepped closer. “That sounds tough. Have you tried anything to help you sleep? I know how uncomfortable it can be to lie awake in a strange place.” There was no response from Pink, who was apparently reading the atlas’ blurb. “Look, I don’t have any with me, but one of the others probably has some sleeping pills. If you want something for tonight, I’m sure we could ask if -”

Pink cut across her again. “Did those hurt?” One of her slim fingers was tapping against the top of her ear, and it took White a moment to realise she was asking about her cartilage piercing, something Pink lacked.

“Yeah, a bit.” She smiled as she touched one of her silver hoops. “I mean, it felt like having my ears stapled, but the pain didn’t last long. It’s worth it, I promise.” White paused, then asked, “are you thinking of getting yours done?”

“No. The lobes were all I needed for modelling.” Pink was now carrying out the somewhat futile task of dusting the edges of the atlas with the tip of her feather boa. “I will be a model again.”

“Of course you will.” Cautiously, White ventured, “but I was wondering…how will the money help you do that?”

“I would never touch plastic surgery,” snapped Pink.

“Of course not, that’s not what I was saying – I was just curious about why you’d want to keep working once you have more than enough money to live on.”

“Because it’s never been about the money. Not pride; pride is a sin, or so everyone says, but they are proud.” Her words became a mumble as she placed the atlas back on the shelf. “They’re proud they aren’t you.”

White’s responding sigh was sympathetic. “I get that. Some people just want to make you feel small, and it’s shitty.” She hesitated before adding, “I really hope this works out for you, Pink – no, whatever your real name is. You’re stunning, please know that, and if being a model is what you want, I wish you all the best.”

Pink hadn’t taken her eyes off the bookshelf while White spoke. “You’re kind. I know that. But I was unkind earlier. Cold, that is. It was unfair and unseemly and most unlike me. I apologise.” At last, she showed her face, and it wore the same smile she had flaunted all evening. Her voice had reclaimed its previous cadence as she mused, “it’ll be so exciting to learn everyone’s names. Like finding out who your Secret Santa was. The mystery, the suspense. You know, I bet you’re a Natalie.”

White smiled and shook her head. “No. You’re in the right half of the alphabet though.”

“No? Really?” Pink shook her head mournfully. “That’s such a shame. You look like a Natalie. I always liked that name. Really pretty, I think.”

“I’m sure you have a beautiful name.”

“Oh, I do! Just earlier today I was saying what a shame it is that I can’t share it with everyone. And I’ve been thinking about it more, and being Pink lends itself to all these trite acknowledgements, like ‘there goes Pink’ and ‘Pink’s at it again,’ that wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

“Um, yeah.” White tried to find a relevant analogy. “It’s a bit like being characters on stage, like our host’s given us these roles to play. That’s why I wanted everyone to get rid of their masks, because it was weird, like they don’t want to see us as humans.”

“Well, I think that’s only fair, really. I think it would be more exciting if the host weren’t human, either.” Pink grinned as she adopted a conspiratorial whisper, the pitch of her voice having risen abruptly. “I hope the host never arrives. We’d have to think of even better games to play. I’ve come up with a really clever one. We’d write stories about what each other’s lives were like before we came here, and the best ones would be considered true, so we’d have to stick to those as long as we can and whoever stays in character longest would win.”

White’s bemused response failed to mimic Pink’s tone of secrecy. “But then we’d never get paid. Everyone would start leaving, and anyone that stayed would get sick of the food. Plus, you wouldn’t get to be a model again.”

Pink looked momentarily gutted, before offering a guilty smile. “Sorry. I lied a little. It’s annoying that you don’t like to perform.” She draped the feather boa over her head and tied a knot beneath her chin, satirising a bonnet. “I will now exit stage left, pursued by that infernal bear.” She left the library, posture immaculate, only turning to amend her parting words. “Oh, wait, the bear’s gone to bed. Swan. Very pretty swan.”

Up the stairs she went. White watched in stunned silence as she reached the upper floor, slipping a hand down the front of her dress to retrieve the key to room five, and sauntering inside.

The hall was silent, and the carpet swallowed White’s footsteps as she ascended the stairs. The huge chandelier had no obvious light switch. It stood no chance of sleep.

The next morning was every bit as idyllic as one would expect of the countryside: golden sunlight slipped over the horizon to spread itself across the landscape, its rays creeping around the edges of closed curtains like lines of chalk. The faint sound of birdsong had even sneaked inside the house.

All this was disrupted by a loud bang.

Only twenty seconds after this noise had occurred, Purple was up and out of bed, had pulled on a pair of trousers and was shaking Black awake.

“Black! Black, wake up!”

She began to stir, looking around the room in bewilderment before her eyes came to rest on his face. “Purple, what time is it?” She reached for her watch. “Quarter to six, what the hell?”

“Black, that was a gunshot.”

“What?” She was still half asleep but was starting to sit up. “What are you talking about?”

“I just heard a gunshot. It came from down the corridor.”

Seeing how serious he was, Black was starting to look concerned. “An actual gunshot? You’re certain?”

Purple picked up his shirt and did up a few buttons as he headed to the door and glanced at the corridor through the peep hole. “Yes, I’m certain.”

Black stood up, worry visible on her face as she headed to the wardrobe and pulled out a dressing gown. “Do you think we should check it out?”

“Definitely.” Purple was impatient enough to open the door and step into the corridor while Black finished dressing and pocketed her room key before following him, closing the door behind her.

“It came from one of the middle rooms,” said Purple with decision as they began to head down the corridor, turning the corner to see a fully dressed Blue heading towards them from the other end. The two began to approach him only for the door to room eight to open. A yawning Red stuck his head out.

“You guys heard a loud noise, right? I wonder what it was.”

“A gunshot,” said Purple instantly, “we came out to investigate.”

Red’s eyes widened. “You’re joking, right? I mean, who here would even have a gun?”

Blue, who had been walking down the corridor at a fast pace, came to a halt in front of Purple and Black, his glasses polished and his dark curls neat even now. “So, it wasn’t just me. I had finished getting dressed when I heard whatever that was. It sounded quite dramatic.”

“Purple thinks it was a gunshot,” said Black nervously. She saw Blue’s eyes linger on Purple’s tie, still fastened around her throat, and quickly undid the knot, stuffing it in her pocket.

“A gunshot?” Concerned lines appeared on Blue’s forehead. “We need to check if everyone’s alright.”

Black nodded. “Yes, we should knock on some doors.” She looked behind her at Red, who was still at his door. “Are you coming with us?”

“Sure, just give me a sec.” He closed the door, and they heard his footsteps retreating into the room.

“Alright, Blue and I can take these middle rooms,” said Purple, “Black, you should wake everyone in the side rooms, just so they know what’s going on.”

“Ok.” Given that Yellow’s room was close, Black hurried to the door and knocked as loudly as possible. “Yellow? I’m so very, very sorry to wake you, but you need to get out here now!”

As Black continued her attempt to wake him, Blue was about to knock on Pink’s door and Purple was heading for Green’s when the door in question opened and an irritated Green stuck his head out, his blond hair rather unkempt.

“What the hell is going on out here? Something woke me up a few minutes ago, and now I hear all of you talking in the corridor like you couldn’t care less about those of us trying to sleep off a hangover!”

“Well, you seem lively enough,” said Purple, “that noise that woke you up was a gunshot. I’m sure it came from somewhere in the middle of the corridor. We’re trying to work out where.”

Green instantly looked a lot more alert. “I’ll be right there.” He left the door ajar as he retreated into his room.

Purple turned to Blue. “Any luck?”

“We’ll see.” Blue knocked several times. “Pink, are you there? Sorry to wake you.”

“Yes, I’m here.” The peep hole darkened, indicating that Pink was looking through it. “I was already up, I wasn’t sleeping well. What are you all doing out there?”

“We heard a noise, and we think it was a gunshot,” Blue explained gently. “Are you alright in there?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you. You lot shouldn’t go worrying every time you hear one little noise.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to check that for myself. Could you please open the door?”

“Absolutely not! I haven’t put my makeup on yet.”

“Pink.” Blue’s voice was steady but firm. “It will only take a few seconds. I just need to know you’re alright. Please open the door.”

“Alright, fine, Mr I-Won’t-Take-No-For-An-Answer! But don’t you dare say anything rude!”

Pink opened the door, standing before him in a rose-pink nightgown, but turned her head to the side so her brunette curls fell in front of her face, completely obscuring it.

She threw up her arms. “Satisfied? Can I finish getting ready now?”

Blue looked relieved. “Of course. I’m glad you’re alright.”

He pulled the door closed as he walked over to Orange and White’s rooms, while Purple knocked at Brown’s door without response.

Green exited his room in a suit without a tie, pocketing his phone. “What’s up?”              

“Brown’s not answering,” said Purple, “Could you check on Black? She’s been trying to wake Yellow.”

“Sure.” Green hurried down the corridor, running into Red as he exited his room in t-shirt and trousers. Black was still banging on Yellow’s door.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’re asleep or dead or just pretending you can’t hear to annoy me, but you have to get up!”

She heard Yellow throw aside his bedcovers in frustration. “I didn’t order room service! Go away and let me sleep!”

Even now, Black couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “It’s not room service, idiot! Now get out here, there might’ve been a gunshot!”

“Well, he’s cheerful as ever,” muttered Green.

“Tell me about it,” said Black. “Did you only just wake up?”

“Yeah, it was some noise. It was pretty loud. I wasn’t sure what it was though, but then Purple showed up saying it was a gunshot, and here we are.”

“Oh, same here,” interjected Red. “It woke me too.”

Black nodded. “I see.” She turned back to Yellow’s room as the man himself exited wearing a dressing gown the colour of mustard. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”

“I hope I will be compensated for my efforts. What’s all this chaos?”

She sighed. “I just told you it was a gunshot.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you were serious. Why would there ever be a gunshot in a place like this?”

Green spoke with decision. “That’s what we’ve got to find out.” He rushed back over to Purple, the others trailing behind. Blue approached them from the other side of the corridor, Orange and White following in their dressing gowns. Purple still stood outside Brown’s room.

“He hasn’t made a sound. I think we should break the door down.”

“Do you think he’s hurt?” asked an anxious White, brushing a hand through her now even more frizzy ginger hair. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“There’s no signal here, remember?” Black said. “We’d have to walk or drive until we find some.”

“Shit, you’re right.” White bit her lip.

“I’ll help with the door.” Orange stepped forward as Purple got into position.

“By all means.” Purple moved aside slightly, then after a countdown, the two slammed into the door several times until it gave in, collapsing backwards on its hinges but not falling off completely. Purple pushed the broken door against the wall and hurried into the room, everyone stumbling behind him, all trying to get a look at the scene before them.

Brown was slumped in a chair, dressed in complete suit and tie, eyes closed, half turned towards the slightly open window. A cigarette that hadn’t been properly extinguished lay on the floor on the right side of the chair, and beside it was a revolver, a trail of smoke drifting from the barrel much like that of the cigarette. The book of Romantic poetry sat on the table to Brown’s left. A single gunshot wound shone red on the right side of his head, blood creeping down his cheek.

Orange was shaking slightly as he looked at the body. “Did - did he…”

Blue shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid to say it, but it looks that way. I wonder if he left a note.” He began to approach the body when Green pushed his way to the front of the shocked crowd, phone in hand.

“Everyone step back from the body!” Green ushered Blue out of the way, raised his phone and started taking photos.

“What are you doing?” White was frowning as she watched Green. “Do you just not care that he’s.... killed himself? Can’t you be more respectful?”

Red folded his arms, glaring at Green. “I can’t believe I helped you last night. This is for your journalism, isn’t it? You’re planning to use his death to make some money, I’d bet.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Black, “Brown’s dead. It’s not like he’ll mind. Besides, it might be useful to show the police photos of the scene as we found it.”

“I appreciate that, Black, but I have no intention of sharing these photos. Not until I’ve met the host and found out exactly what their plan for us is.” There was no trace of the alcoholic from the prior evening. All too eager, Green stepped closer to the body as he took close ups of the gunshot wound and a few shots of the cigarette and revolver. “When the host finally gets here, I’m guessing they won’t want word of this getting out. All of you keep quiet about these photos, alright? That way I’ll have a chance of bringing the truth to light once we’re out of here.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘when the host finally gets here’?” asked a bewildered Orange. “Aren’t we going to leave the house and call the police?”

“Not if we want our money,” said Yellow firmly, “this whole venture is supposed to be secret. Any police attention and the host is going to cut and run, and we’ll be no better off than when we first got here.”

Purple shrugged as he looked over Green’s shoulder, peering at the gunshot wound. “I’m inclined to agree with Green and Yellow. The host is sure to sweep this under the rug. But Green’s got proof of Brown’s death, so he can take that to the police once this whole thing’s over. Anyway, it’s a suicide. There isn’t really any rush to do anything.”

“What?” Red was outraged. “You don’t even need the money! Why are you so keen to go along with this?”

“You don’t need the money either, Red!” snapped Green as he finished with his photos and threw his phone in his pocket. “Maybe that’s why you’re willing to ignore the fact that a lot of us do! White clearly isn’t.”

Red turned to look at White, who was staring at the floor ashamedly as she muttered, “yeah...maybe we should wait.”

Red’s face fell. “What?”

She looked back at him, her guilt evident in the words she mouthed: I’m sorry.

Before Red could think how to react, the sound of a door opening followed by Pink’s footsteps could be heard as she entered the room and made her way to the front of the group, still wearing only her nightdress. Upon seeing Brown’s body, she froze, and if her face hadn’t been coated in hastily applied makeup, it would probably have turned even paler.

“Is this...” Pink looked at the faces of the people around her to see if they were equally shocked, “is this real?”

Black nodded. “Yes. Brown’s shot himself.”

“That’s very sad.” Pink scrunched up her face and narrowed her eyes as she stared at Brown’s body.

Orange gave her a quizzical frown. “Are you trying to cry?”

“Well, that is what you’re supposed to do when someone dies. And I’ve always been told I’m pretty when I cry.” Despite her remarkably composed voice, Pink’s scared eyes never left the corpse before them. “So…what happens now?”

“We are not calling the police,” said Purple firmly. “If we do, the host is sure to bolt, and we forfeit any chance of getting our money. Also, I’m sure we’re all curious about seeing this thing through. We want to find out exactly why we brought here.”

Black spoke up. “Now you’ve explained it, I agree. Coming here was a risky gamble to begin with. We’d be stupid to back out now. I want to know how, and why, the host knows everything they do about us.”

Pink looked to Yellow for confirmation, and he shrugged. “That’s about the size of it. We’re not going to let one man’s suicide stop us from getting what we came for.”

Blue’s fingers were tapping the side of one of his folded arms. “I must congratulate the host when they arrive. It is impressive that they’ve gathered so many people who are both remarkably callous and remarkably honest in one place.”

“I’d say remarkably practical,” noted Black, “Brown wasn’t exactly being polite yesterday. Why should we pretend to be heartbroken over the death of someone we hardly knew?”

Orange gave Blue’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “Look, I don’t think there was anything you could have done for him. None of us knew he was considering this. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Thank you, Orange.” said Blue. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll go along with your plan to leave the police out of it. I’m as curious about why we’re here as the rest of you. I apologise for sounding accusatory, but becoming desensitised to others’ pain is something I always have to be careful of. Speaking of, Red has no obligation to collaborate with the rest of us. He should leave and call the police straight away if he feels that’s the right thing to do.”

Green instantly shot Blue a furious look that meant ‘why would you say that,’ but Red hardly reacted to the suggestion.

“It’s whatever. Obviously, this money means way more than I thought to you guys. I don’t want to jeopardise that. Green, you promise to take those pictures to the police once we’re done here?”

“Sure. I figure I’ll need at least some of you guys’ real names so you can confirm the story. Once we’re done here, of course,” he added hastily as soon as people started giving him wary glances.

“Green, I’ll happily drive you to the nearest station the minute it’s over,” said White. “You shouldn’t have to walk to a bus stop again.” Green nodded his thanks.

“So... are we just going to leave this room as it is?” asked Yellow. “I mean, what about the body? Won’t it start to stink?”

“He’s got a point,” said Purple, “if we think the host will try to hide the body anyway, shouldn’t we just bury it now?”

“But then people will have to dig it up again later to check our story!” interjected Pink. “Think how creepy that will be!”

“Well, it’s not much creepier than someone actually shooting themselves in the first place,” said Orange, glancing at Brown’s body with unease.

“If the host chooses a more thorough method of body disposal, there may be nothing at all to confirm the story other than Green’s photos,” Purple continued, “I think burying the body is the safer choice here. This host is clearly a secretive person and will probably be in a hurry. You really think they’ll have the time to dig up and dispose of a body?

Red was looking increasingly uncomfortable as the whole discussion went on. “I’ve said I’ll go along with this, and I will, for everyone’s sake. But can you at least tell me the rest of you find this as unsettling as I do? Since we came here, the host never showed up, we’ve had to hide our names, and now we’re about to mess with a crime scene and bury a body.” He shook his head. “This is really wrong.”

“I see why you think that, but we’re actually being smart here,” countered Purple. “Our host, whoever they may be, clearly doesn’t want attention drawn to this place. They’re sure to cover up Brown’s death permanently if they get here and see what happened. But Green has the photographs. We bury Brown’s body, then when the host arrives, if they question his absence, we admit what happened. They’re welcome to guess where we buried the body, dig it up and attempt to get rid of it for good, but in the time it would take them to do that, one of us will be able to find somewhere with phone signal and call the police. This is the best way to ensure that Brown’s death becomes public knowledge.”

“How very well-articulated,” observed Yellow. “I have no complaints about this plan.”

“Well, I do.” White hesitated for a few seconds, struggling to accept what was being discussed. “Why did you say we should tell the host that we buried his body? That could be really dangerous. Can’t we just say Brown changed his mind about this whole thing and left?”

Black shook her head. “That would never work. Brown’s car is still parked outside, his things are unpacked and of course, we just smashed his door down. Anyone would be suspicious.”

Blue watched Black with curiosity. “She makes a good point. You’ve thought up a most clever plan, Purple.”

Purple shrugged. “I wouldn’t say so. We’d probably have reached the same conclusion after a lengthy discussion.”

“I’m not so sure.” Blue once again fixed his gaze on Brown’s corpse, his expression solemn. “I suppose I might as well bury the body. I doubt anyone else is eager to volunteer.”

Orange stepped forward. “I’ll help. You can’t carry him by yourself. Not sure how we’re going to dig a hole, though.”

“I think Pink mentioned that the cupboard downstairs has some shovels,” Blue responded, recalling the previous day, “is that right, Pink?”

“Hmm?” Pink glanced away from Brown, turning to him abruptly. “Were you talking to me?”

“Didn’t you mention shovels in the storage cupboard downstairs? Yesterday evening, that is.”

“Oh, yes, yes. There were quite a few. Enough to bury plenty of corpses.” She paused, then laughed, although there wasn’t much feeling behind it. “Sorry, that was awfully morbid, wasn’t it? I don’t mean to be depressing, I’d never say anything to upset anyone. You know that, don’t you?” She nodded as if to herself. “You know that.”

Red shook his head sadly. “This is all so messed up. I can’t believe how willing you all are to hide the body of a man who just committed suicide, all because you’re worried about not getting your money. I know Brown was unpleasant, but we have no idea what he was going through. And we don’t know for sure that the host will show up today. We could be sitting here, knowing we just buried a guy in the back yard, all while his friends, family, anyone who cares about him, are all out there, not knowing that he’s dead. They deserve to know! They deserve to know, right now!”

Yellow shrugged. “If he'd been close to anyone, surely he would have addressed them in a note. Besides, we don’t have signal.”

“Then we drive until we find it! This is so selfish, of all of you. I’ll do what you want, but I feel like shit about it, and you all should too.” He looked at White, his tone softening, but his words still full of pain. “You know what this means to me. What you’re making me go through again.”

“It’ll be alright, Red.” White had started to cry, her words an attempt to console them both. “They have a plan. It’s a good plan. We’re not covering up anything. We’re doing what’s best – what’s necessary – to make sure this all comes out, when we leave.”

“She’s right.” Purple’s words were deliberate and methodical, like a patient teacher. “If you’d been listening to a word I said, you would realise that. We’re going to contact the police once everything’s sorted with the host and we have our money. It’s not selfish. It’s practical.”

Pink tugged on Yellow’s arm. “You’re still going to do my portrait today, right?”

“Of course, my dear, why wouldn’t I?”

Red let out a gasp of disbelief. “Honestly. You lot think you can live with this, but you haven’t thought it through. So, we get our money, and contact the police. We tell them that we were summoned to this place in the middle of nowhere with no phone signal, this guy we just met killed himself, and we decided to bury his body. Do you know how that sounds? It’s suspicious as hell!” He met Purple’s steady gaze with a defiant one of his own. “And even if you’re lying about sticking around to talk to the police, I’m not going to hold back. I will describe all of you, and they’ll find your DNA all over this place. The second any of you get in trouble with the law, if you haven’t already, they’ll know exactly who you are and come to question you about all this. So don’t even think about running away.”

White wiped a tear from her cheek. “I get it, Red. You want to do it right this time. But you don’t have to threaten us. We are going to the police, eventually.” She looked around for confirmation. “Right?”   

Orange and Blue both nodded, and Black offered, “of course we are. Red’s right that we can’t hide from this. And nor should we.”

Purple wore an amused smile. “I’m not too convinced about his capability to fulfil that threat. You’re going to describe us all, are you?” He shut his eyes, still smiling. “What colour are my eyes?”

“They’re the colour of bullshit!” And with that Red stormed from the room, kicking the broken door as he passed.

White stepped close to Purple, disdain evident on her tear-streaked face. “Fuck you. How dare you joke about this.” Tightening the knot on her dressing gown, she hurried after Red.  

Once she’d left, Black glanced around the group. “Does everyone left in this room agree that we’re doing the right thing?”

Everyone nodded, except for Pink, whose head had sunk against Yellow’s shoulder, and Blue, who spoke carefully. “In legal terms, we’re not doing the right thing. It will be difficult to explain our actions, but we’ll pass any lie detector tests they give us. I think our choice makes logical sense, given that the potential benefits to ourselves and our loved ones if we receive the money will be considerable. And we’re not sacrificing the reality of Brown’s death to accomplish that. I’d say that takes a kind of bravery.”

Orange nodded eagerly as if he’d never heard anything so profound, whereas Green scoffed. “Wow, Blue. I can see why you become a psychologist. You’re totally the type that overanalyses every choice other people make, but never takes any responsibility for their own actions. We’re doing this because we’re greedy, alright? It’s ok to say it, I swear. Well, that and having more than a few questions for the host.” Taking off his jacket, Green knelt down and reached for the revolver while keeping the fabric wrapped around his hand.

Purple let out a brisk laugh. “You’re going to use that to interrogate them?”

“No. Never. Of course not. That didn’t even occur to me. I just thought we should keep this somewhere safe. Shouldn’t leave it lying around where anyone could get to it.”

“It might not even be loaded.” Purple approached Green, looking over his shoulder. “Pull out the cylinder.”

Orange spoke up, his voice strained with anxiety. “Guys, I really think we should stop messing with things. I mean, this is still a crime scene. I get why we’re moving the body, but we don’t need to touch anything else, right?”

“He is right that it would be a bad idea to leave the gun somewhere that anyone can get it.” Blue glanced towards Pink. “Someone could easily hurt themself.”

“Yep. Five bullets still in here.” Green nodded towards the empty slot. “That’s the one that he fired.”

“He had six bullets loaded?” A disbelieving smile tickled Yellow’s lips. “Was he that worried about missing?”

Blue winced, but Black shrugged. “I guess it had been loaded like that beforehand. Brown said he worked in security, right? The gun probably came with his job.”

Green stood up, the revolver wrapped in his jacket. “That makes sense. All of you should get dressed before we move his body. I’ll find somewhere to hide this in my room.”

“Whoa, hang on.” Orange stepped forward. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Green raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Because, yesterday, you said you sometimes want to-”

Green cut across him. “Anything I said yesterday was drunken gibberish. And I’m keeping this.” He made to leave, adding, “see you guys back here in ten,” as he returned to his room next door.

The tension in the room was severed by Black saying, “we’d better hope the host pays us in cash. If anyone looks at our bank accounts and sees how much money we gained at the same time Brown dies, it’ll be very difficult to explain.”

“Maybe Brown was the host.” Pink’s head was still against Yellow’s shoulder, eyes closed as if she wished to go back to sleep and find that everything had been a dream. “Now that he’s killed himself we’ll spend ages waiting for him to show up and he’ll never arrive. Like in that one play.”