Contessa jolted awake to a banging noise. She sat bolt upright, head whipping side to side in search of danger. Her thoughts cleared as the noise came again and she realized it was simply somebody knocking on her door, if rather insistently. Contessa pulled on her dressing gown before padding over to the door and cracking it open. When she peeked into the hall, her jaw dropped in shock, and she immediately threw it wide. Standing in the hallway was Mr. Woodrow, dressed in shirtsleeves and looking rather the worse for wear. His hair stood out at all angles, and he swayed slightly where he stood, holding on to the doorframe for support. Most shockingly, his shirt was splattered in something dark. In the dim light of the hallway, Contessa couldn’t be completely sure, but she thought it was blood. “What happened?” she gasped. She might know the answer, but she was more concerned with why he had chosen to show up at her bedroom door in this state. “Don’t worry, most of the blood isn’t mine,” he responded, trying to sound nonchalant even as he gritted his teeth. Before Contessa could respond, he swayed again where he stood. Contessa…