[A lost customer. Once she'd spotted him got into the mirror maze, naturally, she decided to stop at the exit, waiting patiently for him. She'd done her rounds, after all. She had the time to spare.
When Sam at last exits, a medium-height woman - a shock of carnelian red that could be called hair tidily put up in a bun, with a black clip tastefully accenting the feathers and antennae (no doubt props, right?...) of a grandparently age, is leaning against the doorframe, neon pink eyes staring.]
In need of a hand there, young man? You look like you could use one.
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When Sam at last exits, a medium-height woman - a shock of carnelian red that could be called hair tidily put up in a bun, with a black clip tastefully accenting the feathers and antennae (no doubt props, right?...) of a grandparently age, is leaning against the doorframe, neon pink eyes staring.]
In need of a hand there, young man? You look like you could use one.