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Message: <blockquote data-quote="InVinoVeritas" data-source="post: 4130533" data-attributes="member: 41485">Calahan runs back up the stairs, with Darian and Ru following. The shop remains as it was left--sunlight peering in through the windows, the walls moving rhythmically with the passage of time, and the whole place watched over by the enforcer and a multitude of clocks, tin soldiers, and other mechanisms. <img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/114/280263862_3b1e8fe43d.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> The clocks are everywhere. Fr. Berman and Perrin stay downstairs, alone."I'm Father Berman. Who are you?". . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .As the pair grow closer, they see the source of the sound. The candle illuminates three clocks, with a small portrait of Ada above them. Hanging from a post next to the portrait are the charred, tattered remains of her butterfly mask. A miniature wind-up ballerina lies fallen over to one side. <img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/115/292473978_7586b0f122.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> Clocks stand in Ada's memory. [sblock=credits]Photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rcnick4/280263862/" target="_blank">RCNick4</a> and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/januszbc/292473978/" target="_blank">janusz</a>.[/sblock]</blockquote>