Lazily, Hector got up on his legs, dragging himself to the window -- if that hole could even be called a window anyway... -- and peeked outside. Well, he had to admit he did expect to find a thick layer of snow covering everything everywhere.
But he sure didn't see it coming when he opened the damn thing, almost breaking the lock, and the frigid, north wind hit him straight in the face. And before he had the time to utter an obscenity, another gust struck the snow clumped on the roof above him, and a ball of ice fell straight on his nose.
"Gah!" He snorted as he slammed the window shut. "What the heck is with this weath-- Achoo!" He sneezed as he tried to get rid of the snow from his face.
"Looks like there's not getting away from this place anytime soon..." Hector muttered to himself as he looked outside again: snow flakes were still falling from the sky copiously, and the 'thick layer of snow' there was when they had first got there was now at least three times thicker. Everything -- literally, everything -- was covered in that white stuff, and if a couple of hours before he could tell apart a tree from a boulder, now he wouldn't even be able to see his axe in his own hand.
He snorted, throwing himself back on the wooden bed: anyone else would've been thrilled to be in such a setting. A 'classic Christmas scene', right? But not him. He never really understood why people liked snow that much: it was cold, and he didn't like it. He had no use for layers and layers of snow outside: all he knew was that he was stuck there, with no place to go and no field to train. And on top of that, he couldn't even get himself to sleep, for some reason. The winds raged on outside and the bed wasn't that comfortable but-- since when that stuff prevented him from getting a good night's sleep? He was used to much worse lodgings anyway.
Not to mention, his insomnia brought him to look around his room, hoping the sleepiness would hit sooner or later. "Man, this place sure looks old. Gotta admit we've been pretty lucky to find shelter during the storm, but everything's made of wood here. Wooden bed, wooden walls, wooden everything... I'm going to turn into wood myself!" he grunted. "I suppose this looks like a place Eliwood'd like. You know, snow, Ninian, cozy cheesy sappy setting by the fireplace--" ...Wait. Speaking of which...
No answer. Hector turned to the second bed in the room: his red-haired companion laid there, with a peaceful smile on his face, sleeping like a log -- unlike him -- and without making a single sound -- ...unlike him --. "Hey, Eliwood. You really asleep there?" he asked, but seeing as he didn't get a reply, Hector left him alone. "Bet he's dreaming his Ninian or something, the loverboy." he smirked, playfully.
"Well... All right." Tired of turning left and right in the bed waiting for the sleepiness to catch up with him, he got up again: if neither sleeping nor leaving were an option, anything he could do was more useful than sit there and do nothing.
He picked up his cape and, as he left the room, the last thing he saw before closing the door was Eliwood turning in his bed, whispering something in his sleep.
The building wasn't that big, and it didn't take much for Hector to walk through the corridor, quiet and unnoticed without even trying: he wasn't really used to going around without causing one hell of a noise, and without the usual weight of his armor, coupled with the eerie silence, it all felt so weeeeeeeird to him. Man, I feel like a stalker or something. I wonder if this is what Matthew means when he says "slipping by--
Walking, he had reached the lobby: on one side, bright red flames were burning in a large stone fireplace. And sitting in front of it, someone whose figure he knew very well.
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