After a few minutes of everyone uncomfortably staring at Clara in the old, battered water taxi, the students turned their attention to the sight of Venetian buildings. Blue water threaded through the streets, the beige buildings sitting in contrast to the colourful boats and the locals' clothing and as they moved deeper into the wide canals of the city.

Extravagant architecture stood tall and proud above the surrounding houses and apartment buildings, bridges arching over the flooded streets. When they began moving past the nicer areas and into the more neglected neighbourhoods, Clara and a few other students looked around dubiously. "Looks like we're here." Mr Harrington commented. "They're doing some renovations to the place – Getting some upgrades. That must be the concierge."

Mr Harrington climbed off the boat, Mr Dell following and leaving the students to get themselves off the boat. They helped each other, Ned clambering over the side and helping Betty, Betty helping a few more students as Ned held her bag for her. Peter hopped off with ease, adjusting his stature as he stepped on a loose plank of wood, the flooring giving way under his weight. The boy picked his foot from the ground as a wooden plank slipped from its position, splashing into the water beneath them.

He looked dubiously at the ground, hoping that was the only one like that before looking up to see MJ and Clara laughing on the boat. For a brief moment, Peter worried she had told MJ about his plan, but then quickly shook the idea from his head, not letting his paranoia get the best of him.

As Clara turned to face the platform he stood on, Peter held a hand out for her and practically lifted her out of the boat as she took it, setting her on stable ground a second later. "Thanks." Clara brushed herself off, dust and chips of paint from the boat dotted across her outfit.

MJ stepped of the water taxi, either not noticing or ignoring the hand Peter outstretched for her. His expression morphing from a hopeful smile to a dejected mope. "Chin up, Choochie." Clara smiled, patting Peter on the back with enough force to knock him forward a step.

"What?" He frowned, turning to look at her while wondering what an Earth that meant. She shrugged, walking past and sticking her head through the hotel entrance way, lurching back out as soon as she did, raising a hand to cover her mouth and nose.

"Oh, my God, that stinks." Clara spat.

Peter moved forward, doing the same. "It's not that bad."

"Are you joking?" She asked, scrunching her nose as she stepped all the way in. She looked over the room, a rotting wood interior with a shamble of strange decorations. The only splash of colour in the room was the bright ginger cat sitting atop a table, giving its arsehole a thorough cleansing.

"Tell me we aren't staying here." Betty groaned as Mr Harrington stepped into a pool of water just in front of the door.

"This place is sinking." Champagne boy said, the hotel a polar opposite when compared to his usual lavish and luxurious dwellings.

"I think you mean 'charming'." Mr Dell corrected him. "Okay, everybody. Drop your bags off, we're gonna meet at the Da Vinci museum at three. Let's go! Vamonos!"

"It's andiamo." Betty corrected.

"Andiamo! When in Rome, we do as the Romans do. We here in Venice, the socks get wet." Mr Dell continued, pulling Carla to the side once the other students had passed. "So... We don't actually have enough rooms for you."

"Right." Clara narrowed her eyes. "So... You've found somewhere else for me to stay?"

"Well, not exactly." Mr Dell said, shrinking away from Clara's slowly growing glare. "You'll have to share with a couple other people."

"Oh. That's fine." Clara shrugged, moving passed to find someone to share a room with before stopping to look back at the two teachers. "Wait, you mean share with people from the class, right?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely. There are only a couple of rooms with three beds in, though, so you'll have to be quick!" Mr Harrington gave her two thumbs up, turning to face the front desk, his foot landing back in the puddle as he did.

Clara turned around with the look of disbelief back in her expression. These people are strange, she thought, making her way up the rickety staircase. Each floorboard she stood on creaked as if it were screaming at her to get off. The hallway was empty now, each pair of students with a room to themselves.

She peered into the rooms that still had their doors still open, seeing that the majority did in fact have only two beds. When she finally saw one that did have three beds, she moved swiftly on past, champagne boy had set up a corner of the room to look at least a little appealing before pulling his phone out to check the appearance of his particularly unimpressive facial hair in the camera.

The next room also had three beds, but it seemed as though the previous room had been claimed by champagne boy, and champagne boy alone so the person who should've been sharing with him had moved to this one. MJ turned to the doorway as Clara appeared in her peripheral vision. "Hey, you alright?" She asked in her usual monotone voice.

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm just hunting down a room." Clara smiled, MJ turning back to her suitcase, seemingly done with the conversation. Clara moved on, peering into each room until she got to the last in the hallway. She wished with every part of her being there would be space, otherwise she'd be sleeping downstairs with the cat and the concierge.

"It's Clara, right?" Ned asked, seeing the girl peering into the room.

"Er, yeah." She stepped into the dingy space. Ned had chosen his bed as the one nearest the door and Peter was still looking between the two sitting under the windows, not quite sure which he'd prefer to sleep in. "Do you mind sharing the room?"

"Well, er, actually..." Peter started to disagree, turning to face Clara as she had spoken. She tilted her head down slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes and pushing her bottom lip out slightly. If it works on my mum, who knows, it might work on two teenagers, she hoped.

"It's the only bed left." She pouted.

"But-" Peter looked to Ned for help, knowing there would be certain things they couldn't talk about when she was around.

"I'm okay with it." Ned nodded, watching the sad expression on Clara's face morph into a bright grin, the girl knowing she had won this debate.

"Well. I guess it's fine." Peter turned away sulking, dropping his suitcase onto the bed closest to Ned's.

"If you want, I can sleep in the hallway?" She asked, feeling a slight irritation as Peter began to sulk. "Or, how about I sleep on gondola? I bet that'll be comfy."

Ned snapped his fingers in a 'z' formation. Peter glaring at him as he did. "It's fine. I don't mind." He sighed, opening his case without thinking. He slammed it shut again as he caught a glimpse of the red and blue suit inside.

Clara and Ned both shot him a questioning look. "Anywhere in particular you want to go today?" Ned asked her.

"Not really." She shrugged. "I heard Venice is 'super-famous' for making stuff out of glass." Clara told them, repeating the words Peter had spoken days before with a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, that's so weird; Peter and I were talking about that the other day!" Ned exclaimed.

"She was sitting behind us, Ned." Peter dropped onto his bed, expecting at least a little bounce, but feeling a jolt run up his spine instead. "She knows about the plan."

"Mission Biltmore." Clara nodded, choosing the name for them. When they both looked back at her with blank expressions, she raised an eyebrow. "Biltmore – As in Biltmore Hotel."

"I don't get it." Ned stated, Peter saying the same.

"That was where Black Dahlia stayed before her murder – At the Biltmore Hotel."

"Oh." Peter said, turning back to the still open door, before turning to face Clara again. "What time is it?"

She glanced at her watch. "Twenty-to-twelve." Her stomach rumbled at the sight of the time, though she was feeling somewhat nauseous from the musty smell of the building. "Almost lunch time."

"You guy's ready to go?" Peter asked, pulling his backpack over each shoulder after shoving something into it, out of sight. "Did you want to stick with us?" He asked Clara, who shrugged, Peter now seeing this was something she did often.

"Depends what you're getting for lunch."