Pitch Black

"You see, young man, it's like this..." she croaks, as she begins to conspicuously draw a dagger from the knotted bun her hair is drawn up into. Graceful, subtle Rebecca De Mornay - this hag is NOT.

You catch her arm faster than she could say, "Aw, sarsparilla!" and wrench it from her liver-spotted, withered hand. You clutch her up hastily to further question her, but it's too late. She's either passed out or dead.

Will you: