Sly was oblivious, in that moment, to how very alike Harley he appeared. The both of them, with arms folded, content to eye one another from opposite sides of that hallway. Each as equally...defiant perhaps. Maybe it was confidence- or some faked version of it. Neither of them willing to give the other that satisfaction of appearing out of their depth even if Sly was certain no amount of Youtube videos were ever going to help Harley fix that air conditioner. Especially if she didn't even know where that utility room was to begin with. Her inspiring speech seemed to earn her little more then a scoff and yet the warlock could hardly prevent that look of...uncertainity that lingered within the depths of his gaze. Was she truly trying to help him or was she simply part of some elaborate plan to lure him down here to begin with? They didn't do stranger danger videos for repairmen and they sure as hell hadn't covered this in his basic training for customer service. Hell, he'd survived this long on his own. Maybe he was better off just taking his chances again. He could find his way out of here. He'd found his way down after all. It was just a manner of retracing his steps. Sly, after all, was nothing less then methodical in most things. Even despite the relatively carefree demenour he so often presented the world with. The warlock, more often then not, was inclined to far more internal thought then he ever truy displayed. Harley seemed almost...disappointed at his rejection of her help. Sly, for the barest of moments, contemplated recnsidering that very offer before Harley promptly named him Mr Fixit- only to take it back. It was, admittedly, a decent joke and yet he hardly cared to offer her that satisfaction. The warlock instead merely content to offer a loose roll of his blue eyes.

"Sure, thanks."

It was almost a shame she might have been working with the vampires. She was cute. The very kind of woman he'd have picked out of a crowd during one of his own shows. The kind he'd have tried to convince to have a drink with him afterwards. Sly's head shook lightly, the thoughts of Harley, for now, readily dismissed as his hands tucked back into his pockets and he headed down that first corridor. He'd come this way, hand't he? He'd come down, he was certain which meant he needed to go up and yet he still felt almost as if he was going down all over again. Corridor after corridor pased by in a veritable blur as Sly's footsteps increased. The first beginnings of true nervousness began to tug at the back of his mind. This place was a fucking maze. Everything looked the same. More then one of those hallways ended ina silver door, the very kind that required a key card to open. He hadn't open any doors to come down here. Was it possible one had closed behind him. Had Ruben done something? The sudden thought of that...smoke the pale vampire had turned into prompted Sly's gaze downward once more as if the warlock anticipated seeing that mist seep beneath one of the doors at any moment. Fuck this place. Sly rounded another corner only to near collide with yet another door. The screams coming from behind this one seemed to freeze the warlock in his tracks for several long moments before he near whirled in place, that curse upon his lips as he broke into a sprint.

Nothing made sense in these halls. There was no signage, no directions. Everything was dark and silver and....bland. As if someone had designed the damn thing to be as unimaginitvely unidentifiable as possible. Was he still going down or was this up? Sly turned another corner. His path, this time, blocked by a pair or ornate double doors. Did these lead back to that dance floor? The warlock slowed even as his heart continued to near race within his chest, his fingers extended, reaching for that door- only for a sudden crash from behind prompting him to spin in place. That hallway was as dark and empty and poorly lit as it had been when it came up. God damn it. Sly turned toward that door again, only to find himself face to face with another man. Those heavily accented words so barely had a chance to resonate within the warlocks mind before Sly all but scrambled from that hallway. The warlock, this time, breaking into a full sprint. Up. He just had to go up. Where the fuck was up? He wasn't alone down here that much was for fucking certain. Soemone had come out of that room the scream had come from, that French...demon...ghost man was somewhere down here. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

That impact very near took his breath away. A distinctly more femanine 'fuck' was uttered into that gloom as Sly and the being he collided with went crashing to the floor with all the force of his sprint. Sly, somehow, ending up entirely on top of....Harley. Her name was uttered with a near breathless disbelief as the warlock struggled to compose himself, his blue gaze met the violet of her own as the man simply...blinked several times over. His breath very near coming in gasps from that sprint. He'd run in a circle? How? Unless Harley had moved. That seemed more likely and yet-. His own thoughts were interrupted by Harley's sudden insistence that his words were hardly what a woman wanted to hear when a man was on top of her, that nickname falling from her lips with equal mirth. On top of her? Oh. That very realisation of their unique....positioning seemed to strike him then. Sly, for the first time, taking note of how entirely pinned beneath him that woman was. Alright. Maybe this wasn't exactly...flattering. For either of them. Harley sat upward, her violet gaze suddenly all the closer to his own before she queried whether or not he was ever going to get up. His hands quickly found that floor, the blonde pushed himself up and onto his knees before easing himself upward and off of his companion, only to hold his hand out to her in turn.

"Sorry. I didn't see you while I was running out of the twilight zone or whatever the fuck is going on down there."

Harley's fingers fit neatly within his own as Sly's hand effortlessly gripped her's, helping lift the Were gently to her feet.

"-maybe if you weren't so abnormally tiny."

That sarcasm found his own tongue with effortless ease in a subtle revenge for that nickname she had afforded him. It was true, she was decidedly...petite. Yet even despite her small stature that leather she wore hardly hid the slender, femanine figure beneath. Rather, it hinted almost...teasingly. Maybe he should stop holding her hand. Sly was quick to release his fingers a moment later, his arms folding back across his chest as Harley insisted that maybe it was time to do things her way-even if he had lasted longer then she'd expected.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

One blue eye arched upward near dubiously before the sound of someone coming down one of those halls began to echo. Which way was it coming from? Sly's gaze shifted to eye the hallway he'd just coming running from. It sure as hell wasn't that way. The hall to the left led to that basement Ruben had tried to lure him into which only left another path to the right and yet he was damn near certain he hadn't come down that way to begin with either. One hand lifted to run though his blond hair again, those strands falling haphazardly back into place beneath his hat. His attention returned to Harley, the Were woman looked almost equally as uncertain about which way to go.

"Not that way."

Sly's hand lifted to point in the direction he'd come from only moments ago when he'd sent them both sprawling onto the ground.

"I found some door, someone was....screaming. The door opened but I took off, I have no idea who was coming out. I found another door, a double door, I tried to go through it but some....ghost attacked me."

That, for now, was the only logical explanation he had as those footsteps continued to draw closer and closer.
"What are the chances that whoever is coming is going to be able to show us the way out?"

How very doubtful Harley looked. Great. Wonderful. This night was just so splendid.

"It's Sly, by the way. My name. If I die here paint my name on the wall with an arrow pointing to the exit just to annoy the fuck out of whoever designed this place. That's my death wish."

His lip quirked ever so slightly, the vaguest hint of amusement daring to tug at his features. At least he'd leave an impression.

sly.