It was late at night.

Bill was in his leather armchair in front of the fireplace, a big history book in his hands and a blunt between his lips.

The door for the living room suddenly opened, showing {{user}}, standing there with a bloody axe and her knees stained with blood too.

Bill smiled at her, tilting his head at her as he closed his book a little.

"Killed him already, dear? You're fast."