The knife embedded itself in the faded wallpaper with a dull 'thunk', the grey eyes that tracked its progress darting over to the silent cell phone on the nightstand...seemed determined to stay that way. Myrddin let the muscles in his arm go slack and it flopped back onto the bed as sigh of frustration escaped him. At this point, the Welshman had nearly convinced himself that the phone was keeping itself from going off just to spite him. Now he was bored. Lovely. Knowing there was nothing to be gained by staying in bed at this point, Myr rolled off the bed and onto his feet, not even bothering to remove the knives from the wall as he made his way out of the apartment and onto the fire-escape. 'Might as well take a walk,' he thought as his boots hit the cracked concrete of the shadowed alley below.