Tipping his flask to his lips he ponders the situation. "Locked in the mansion, that mayor is one crazy ******", he tips his flask to the air in a silent toast to her. He laughs as he can't help but wonder if Bartholomew wasn't "just a little brought down" when we knocked.
Having no use for politics he’s not well up on the mayor and her shenanigans. His political inclinations tend to run from apathy to anarchy. Oh well best check out the kitchen and the bar. Snagging a tray of hor d’oeuvres and two bottles of Scotch he heads back to his room.
He passes Wiz dancing to the blues brothers and FF salivating over Mad, claiming to be a bit peckish. “It’s a bit early for cannibalism at this point FF”, he says as he throws the lad a bacon wrapped scallop. .
Carving his name in his room door with his trusty pocket knife he goes in and closes the door.