The Avalon Club. After hours.
The main lights are low. The sickly smell of spilled alcohol lingers. Someone's purple high heeled shoes are left behind by a table. The patrons have left for home.
After another long night at Court, Martha had decided it was time to survey the situation Upstairs.
Having struggled up The Stairs with a weary frown she stood now near the edge of the empty dancefloor. Looking at the discarded shoes and wincing at the reek in the air of the scents and smells. She'd smelled worse things; but it didn't mean she had to like this.
Martha, dressed in her usual long gymslip, black blazer, straw boater hat and white blouse with red necktie, black Mary Jane's, her hair tied neatly into two twin tails with red ribbons, her satchel over a shoulder, leans on her cane as she hobbled to a halt to inspect the lonely shoes. Looking up from her inspection of them, she blinks and peers to see what and who else might be around at this late hour.