As Lapinette turned to look upstairs, an unknown force carried them to their next destination. "Maybe this is the end of our journey?" she said. She jumped in the air. So did the Wabbit. He danced an impromptu version of a highland fling. "This is the Museo Centrale Montemartini, and this is the exit!" Lapinette laughed. "I think we can get out of here, but it's Monday. The Museum is closed." The Wabbit continued dancing. "And exits are alarmed." Lapinette decided to dance too and pirouetted. "We can dance our way out." They danced for a while, but the door refused to open. "It was a long shot," sang the Wabbit. "Just a pot shot," replied Lapinette. They settled down and thought of a plan. "I could just kick the panic bolt and then we could hop it," grinned the Wabbit. Lapinette considered it. "Mmm, the police will come." She shook her head. "But they don't usually. And we could be long, long gone." They danced again. "Which way would we go?" asked the Wabbit. "You decide," laughed Lapinette. The Wabbit flung his arms in the air. "Up to the old gasworks and get lost in the old abandoned industrial archaeology." "Sounds like a plan," nodded Lapinette, "You first." The Wabbit kicked down on the panic bolt and pushed. The alarm went off. Police sirens wailed. They looked at each other and smiled. Then they did what rabbits do best. They ran. They hopped over walls and barriers. They tore across rubble. They swam across a small reservoir until they reached the old gasometer. They looked behind them. There was nobody. "I see a bar," shrugged the Wabbit.
