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He knew the child wasn't going anywhere. Once the dizziness had left him, the Fat Man proceeded on through his house. He stopped in the dining room and looked at the natasha richardson single place setting on the table, staring at the empty plate. "Time for dinner!" he shouted, knowing that his voice would carry throughout the other-wise empty house to the ears of his young quarry. The Fat Man looked in the living room: empty. He opened the door to the den: also natasha richardson empty. There was no where else to hide on this natasha richardson level. He hadn't heard the creak of the front door opening, so he knew that the Little Boy was still in the house. That meant only one thing: he had to go up another flight of stairs. By the time the Fat Man reached the second story, his face was beet red and sweat was pouring down his face.
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