"Look, Marcy, you want to go to one of the weirdest places in the City for whatever crazy reason you got, fine, but we're not staying around with a Picasso who can see us!"

"They forget, don't they? The Picassos. If they don't see you, they forget. So we just gotta avoid the cameras, destroy them or something—"

She is definitely not pleased with this argument but she has no comment at this juncture.

"You," she says, looking at Denice. "How did you escape the Picasso?"

"...I hear him. Stay away, don't see."

"What? You can hear it?"

"Could you keep us away from it?"

(The Picasso seems to have forgotten how to use stairs.)

She considers the request for a few seconds, clearly uncomfortable, shoots an indecipherable look at Hollister, and then nods, still somewhat reluctantly. "But... I say go, go, might not... time."

"Whoa, no. Marcy, no, what are you doing? You're gonna..." He trails off, glancing at Denice. "This is way too dangerous, what would Vivi think?"

"Look, I said I'd go with a spotter, and she might well be it if you're chickening out, but I'm getting my piece out there, it's too important not to."

"I—you—" He looks between her and Denice and throws his arms up in frustration. "Augh! If I die here I will haunt you."

She looks at him with a strange expression for a second then turns to Denice. "Where to? We're going to the twentieth floor."

She nods and heads off to the far elevator bank to jab the up button, not looking at Hollister.

"Shouldn't we be doing what she said?" he asks, looking around and fidgeting a bit. "Blocking cameras or something?"

She considers for a second, then nods. "Can. Paint?" she directs at Marcy.

"Yeah, good idea, point me at hidden ones," she says, looking for less hidden ones anddddd there she sprays. "Should stay in blind spots, too."

In the meantime, the Picasso seems to have figured out how to use stairs and is walking up them. And pausing and trying to remind himself of why he did that.

She freezes, her face aimed at the Picasso. "Coming, stairs, slow." She estimates how much longer the elevator is going to take... "Paint there, there," she points without looking.

Marcy paints, very quietly.

"...you really can hear it," he murmurs, blinking at her.

("Don't know why I bother // should take the elevator // what for? Could just watch the cameras // might sneak a nap in...")

If she ignores him maybe he will go away?

The elevator dings and opens. She holds the door - watching her move without looking where she's going is kind of creepy, she's still very focused on the Picasso - but waits for Marcy rather than getting in herself just yet.

Marcy returns, walks into the elevator, and paints over the camera there, too, for completeness.

Hollister follows, resigned.

(And the Picasso starts making his way back to his security booth. "Don't need this // could just wait // nap // stay // nothing ever happens here // where'd those hooligans go anyway?")

She relaxes, marginally, and joins them. "Wait, need to -"

"—to?"

"Not sure it's safe. Wait for, Picasso to see the paint."