The first thought that Perry had, when he saw the place that the cornucopia was placed in, was that they had built this arena for him. Obviously not completely for him, but for someone like him, maybe. How many times had they gone scavenging in a museum, checking out each exhibit because they could? What was the artist of that painting he and Nora had gotten for Julie?

He may have only made it out of that bloodbath with a knife, but a knife was a hell of a lot better then nothing. It was an easy choice from there to decide where to go; he'd headed to where he knew the stairs would be located. No chance of catching him in an elevator. You didn't know if the power would go out, or who would be standing outside when it opened.

And he wanted to get the lay of the land, which was why he took the stairs as far up as he could go. He'd walk around, and make his way back down, before he picked the spot where he'd settle for a little bit. It wouldn't be here among the figures, though. He didn't recognize almost any of them, but found himself reading the plaques and staring into faces longer then he should.