"We hate to admit it, and we wouldn't to anyone else," Toffee said, "but Marc and I are a little odd in some ways. Guns don't faze us. In fact, there's very little that does. If you doubt me, shoot me, and see for yourself."
Marc's mouth started open in alarm, but closed again as Toffee winked at him.
Apparently Miss Quirtt was as open to suggestions as was Miss Ruby Marlow. "All right," she said agreeably, a shrewd look coming into her eyes. "Just stand over there."
Toffee followed her directions, and took her place before the wall, and near Marc, where Miss Quirtt could keep them both covered during the experiment. "Be sure you fire close up," she said. "I wouldn't want you to miss."
"Don't worry," Miss Quirtt said menacingly, leveling the gun at Toffee. "I won't." She squinted down the barrel, her eyes really crossing this time, and pressed the trigger.
There was a sudden flash of white light, and an explosion. A crack etched it's way crazily through the plaster just behind Toffee, but Toffee, herself, remained just as she had been, a composed, smiling figure in a scandalous black evening gown.
"You see?" she said. "You'll just have to think of something else."
Miss Quirtt stared at her, not seeming to be so much amazed as thoughtful. "I'll have to think this over," she said pensively. "I had my heart set on making corpses of you, ... being my first, and all, you know." She crossed to the door and locked it, keeping the key, then turned back to them apologetically. "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you for a while," she said. "I'll have to dream about this. I get all my best ideas in my dreams."
"I'll bet you do," Marc said flatly.