Steve said, as he and Mike stood in front of the west wing. The scaffolding was starting to go up, and the men were removing the charred remains of the interior. Mike jotted it down in his blue note pad. “What about the fireplace?” Mike asked, his pen edging on his lower lip as he thought. He was really hoping they could save it, as it was such a beautiful piece of late medieval architecture and he knew he would have a real hard job replacing it. “We should be able to restore it. The stone work is perfect, it’s just smoked damaged that’s all.” Steve eyes lifted to movement above him. “Move!” he yelled, and he shot forward shoving Mike hard. Mike, fell backwards, his pen and pad flying out of his hands as he landed with a heavy thud on the ground. Bang! The floor shook with the impact. “Fucking hell,” Mike gasped balancing himself with his left hand on the grass. He glanced up at Steve and back to the head of the stone gargoyle that had just missed smashing him to smithereens.
