input: OPTIONS:
- To his apartment
- The film school
- not enough information
- To someone's house he had ripped off Now, answer this question: I went over to a guy's house to see a movie that he had acted in. It was our first date. He starts the movie and I settle back to watch. I was in film school and the guy, Nick, had told me he wanted my “professional” opinion. We're five minutes into the movie when Nick reaches for the remote and says, “Let's fast forward to my part.” I reply that, in order to adequately critique the movie, I should see it from the beginning. Nick assures me that his scene is self-contained and needs no context. A fight scene plays. Nick pauses and asks, “What did you think?” I look confused and Nick says, “Did you miss me? Let's play it again.” I watch the scene again, but still can't make out Nick. Nick rewinds, plays and pauses. “There I am,” he says, gazing fondly at the screen. Except the screen was gray. No actors. No landscape. Nothing, but gray snow. “What do you think,” he asked, his eyes never leaving the empty screen. At that point, I realized Nick was crazy. “That's great!,” I said. “But look at the time. Time sure flies when you're having fun.” Nick was still staring at the screen with a strange little smile. I stood up. Nick stood up, now not smiling. “You're not going anywhere,” Nick said. It's funny how fear works. I've found that in times of danger, adrenaline supersedes fear. I managed to trick Nick, hide from Nick and finally to escape after more than an hour of suspense. Turns out it wasn't even Nick's place. He had taken me to the house of someone he had ripped off in a drug deal. I am very wary now of going to a guy's home unless I know him extremely well. According to the above context, answer the following question. Where did Nick take her to see his movie
A:
output: To someone's house he had ripped off

input: OPTIONS:
- The doctor
- A nurse
- not enough information
- A friend Now, answer this question: THE HOSPITAL'S emergency room smelled like soap. The place was nearly empty when I carried Mia inside, just one couple and their kids sitting in a circle in the corner. The parents  glanced up at us, then went back to praying quietly. The kids stared at the floor the whole time. I dropped Mia into a chair at the nurses' station and waited. Behind the glass wall in front of me, three nurses were talking about their various ex-husbands. It sounded like the same guy to me. I was still waiting for them to figure this out when one of them came over and asked, "What's the problem?" "No problem," I said. "I just want to drop her off." We both looked at Mia. A string of drool slowly slipped from her chin to her chest. "Has she been drinking?" the nurse asked. "I'm not really sure," I said. The nurse looked back at me. "You're not really sure? Now what does that mean?" "I don't know," I said. "I found her. I thought maybe I could leave her here." "Sure, we'll just have to fill out the paperwork for that," the nurse said. She smiled at the other nurses when she said it, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. She had me go through Mia's pockets, but all I could find was a piece of paper with an address written on it. Five Crossings. I couldn't find her ID anywhere. The nurse entered my name and address on a form, then took us down the hall to another room. What seemed like hours later, an old, red-faced doctor finally came in. He glanced at Mia and then washed his hands in the sink. "You the father or the boyfriend?" he asked. "Neither," I said. "I've only just met her." I couldn't take my eyes off the garbage can in the corner. It was full of bloody bandages. I wondered what had gone on in there before we'd arrived. According to the above context, answer the following question. Who is the narrator?
A:
output: not enough information

input: OPTIONS:
- After he left the warehouse
- not enough information
- When he was in front of the warehouse
- Before he got to the warehouse Now, answer this question: I showed up at the address on Columbine's invitation just before eleven; it was a converted warehouse in an industrial zone on the city's north side. Since it was a Saturday night, everything else was empty for miles. The parking lot was filled with sports cars, hybrids, and shiny suburban tanks. The door facing the parking lot was open, spilling out muted lights and the din of yuppie chatter. It cast a somewhat foreboding aura over the entrance. The first thing I noticed as I approached was the beefy refrigerator in a rented tux blocking the doorway. The second thing was the surveillance camera perched on the wall above his head. I had stopped home and changed first, so I was sure I was dressed mostly appropriately for some rich faux-hipster art party - charcoal gray pinstripe jacket over a TV on the Radio t-shirt, skinny cuffed jeans, Docs, and a black fedora. I certainly didn't look any worse than the other idiots I saw filing in and out of the door. I even had an invitation. So I was fairly confident I'd be able to gain admission to this thing without incident. "No, absolutely not," the doorman said, pressing a meaty palm into my chest. "I was invited!" I said, exasperated. "I have documentation." I waved the rave card in front of his face. "No dice." I stepped aside to let a couple of aging goths through the door and wondered for a moment if the doorman somehow knew who I was. Then I noticed the ear piece he was wearing and my eyes darted back to the surveillance camera. "Motherfucker," I spat and raised both arms to flip off the camera. I didn't know it at the time, but at that moment Dylan Maxwell was sitting in front of a wall of monitors, laughing his ass off. According to the above context, answer the following question. When did the narrator notice the man in the doorway?
A:
output:
When he was in front of the warehouse