[ from here. ]

And of course, she won herself another hallway.

But it was a small corridor, relatively claustrophobic at best and not unlike the one she had near her own room. There was no reason to dawdle, and she found herself rushing (quietly and around the people that seemed to be meeting right in the middle of the hall) as she peeked around the corner of each successive hallway. She trained her flashlight on each end door, settling her hypothesis as she read the numbers – M80, M70, M60…

M50. Bingo. (Bimgo?)

Perfect.

[ to here. ]