Val wouldn't have stopped. She wouldn't have listened to the shouted wait, but she was tired. So tired. Running wasn't as fun as she remembered. Running while being shot at was distinctly less fun than she could remember. She panted, leaning against a nearby wall and turned her fading eyes in the direction of the demonic monster that the Frenchman had turned into.

She wasn't sure why he had stopped running. Not at first. She thought the magical command was pretty clear about not stopping. The giant red letters and foreboding verbiage caught her attention right as she was about to toss an insult or two at the sulfur smelling fiend in front of her. She let out a deep sigh and thought for a moment about what to do. Planning was never her jam. She hadn't expected things to get hot so fast. She could feel the gun in leather satchel. It felt heavy and it felt hot. She wasn't going to use it. She wouldn't. She wasn't a killer. She wasn't like the others.

"Fuck it, let's go see what RESTRICTED really means," Val said with a shrug and a cough as she stumbled towards the Frenchman and the door. Hiding was far better than running. The others could be flash, she preferred to vanish into the shadows of some cold corridor.