“I do dislike Las Vegas for the most part.”
“For the most part? Illya what’s that supposed to mean?”
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“I do dislike Las Vegas for the most part.”
“For the most part? Illya what’s that supposed to mean?”


The echoing of their footsteps across the gleaming white marble floors was the only sound apparent. Napoleon found himself checking his gun frequently, as if to confirm it was still there. Immediately it was obvious something was wrong here; a cup of coffee lay cold and abandoned on the table, luggage was piled in front of the desk as though the owners had simply stepped away for a moment, and the bell hops trolley stood empty, half blocking the elevator door. Everywhere there were signs of human life and yet actual humans? Not a trace.