Howard knows full well that the elevators are a death trap, which is why he's been using the stairwell. It's not much safer, especially since he knows that it will still suffer the effect of a bottleneck, but at least he can hear people coming before he's trapped with them. His fingertips are slightly cut up from using a piece of wire to undo the locks on the doors, but otherwise he's, miraculously, completely uninjured.
It's the best start to an Arena Howard's ever had. Willow is holed up somewhere, and now Howard's getting the lay of the land floor by floor. When he hears a ding from the elevator - a different ding, he realizes, than what he heard when he exited the elevator the first time - he creeps over from behind a diorama of African ungulates and waits to see if anyone comes for it.
He could rush for it, grab it and hit the 'close doors' button on the elevator, but he'd still have to go somewhere - and if found when the doors opened with a good in one hand, he could very well be in trouble. He decides to wait and watch, instead; he really has all he needs between the knife and the food he got at the cafeteria.
The only thing he hasn't had is sleep. He hasn't been able to rest until he's aware of all of the places a Tribute could pop out of on this floor, and that means exploring. It also means taking weapons off the wax figures and hiding them, which, given how heavy some of them are, has been no simple task. The white leg on Howard's rabbit pajamas is dusty now from having crawled all over; his Donatello-shell backpack is loaded down with daggers.
He doesn't even recognize the figure that stumbles over for a few moments, until R turns with the canister in his hands and those fingers only half-pumped with blood fumbling at the wrapping. Howard chooses that moment to step out from behind a taxidermied kudu.
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It's the best start to an Arena Howard's ever had. Willow is holed up somewhere, and now Howard's getting the lay of the land floor by floor. When he hears a ding from the elevator - a different ding, he realizes, than what he heard when he exited the elevator the first time - he creeps over from behind a diorama of African ungulates and waits to see if anyone comes for it.
He could rush for it, grab it and hit the 'close doors' button on the elevator, but he'd still have to go somewhere - and if found when the doors opened with a good in one hand, he could very well be in trouble. He decides to wait and watch, instead; he really has all he needs between the knife and the food he got at the cafeteria.
The only thing he hasn't had is sleep. He hasn't been able to rest until he's aware of all of the places a Tribute could pop out of on this floor, and that means exploring. It also means taking weapons off the wax figures and hiding them, which, given how heavy some of them are, has been no simple task. The white leg on Howard's rabbit pajamas is dusty now from having crawled all over; his Donatello-shell backpack is loaded down with daggers.
He doesn't even recognize the figure that stumbles over for a few moments, until R turns with the canister in his hands and those fingers only half-pumped with blood fumbling at the wrapping. Howard chooses that moment to step out from behind a taxidermied kudu.
"Rob?"