The squeal of the chair's wheels was music to Medusa's ears. She couldn't fight the slow smile that crept across her face as he finally came forward. Such a dark, brooding figure - surely he was meant for more than service to that fool of a Grim Reaper! Stein would always sell himself short, in Medusa's eyes, by playing the part of a mere servant. He could do so much more, be so much more.

But she had not come here to argue.

Medusa stepped forward, out of the shadows. Her bodysuit melted into a long, black dress with long swooping sleeves that covered her tattoos and cut off midway up her arm. There were still no shoes on her feet - Medusa much preferred the feeling of the cool stone against her bare feet - but the dress covered them more or less, and had a long slit up the side that came to her mid-thigh. Hey, it paid to have magic at one's disposal.

"Why wouldn't I?" Medusa chuckled. Slowly she stepped up to the threshold, drawing out the anticipation. "A little risk makes life interesting, don't you think?"

Could it have been a trap? Yes. Medusa wouldn't have put it past Stein to be brilliant enough to set a trap. The Grim Reaper himself could very well have been beyond that door. But no, Medusa couldn't sense anyone else around but Stein. So there was no fear in her golden eyes. Rather, she stepped up to him, setting both hands against the door frame and leaning forward so that her face was barely centimeters from Stein's.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Franken Stein?" Her voice was low, almost a soft purr.