She wasn't entirely sure what the piece of metal in the stranger's hand was, but judging from the way he wielded it, she was sure it had to be a weapon of some kind. It smelled of explosive powder. And there was a whisper of smoke curling from the barrel.

Alarmed, she pulled the trap door up again, just enough to protect her face. Meanwhile, her wide, gray eyes took in the scene.

Her master was dead.

Ariadne wasn't...happy exactly. She could never take joy in another person's suffering. But at the same time, his death opened up some wild new possibilities for her life, which until just now had been reduced to the size of one small room.

That was, of course, assuming the stranger didn't kill her as well. "Don't hurt me," she said, deciding in the moment to go for the harmless angle. It generally worked best for her, especially with snarly males.