On the Night of Halloween || CLOSED
It was disappointing how the assassin found himself here. One moment, he was finding his way through a report and the next, in the span of a blink, he was standing in this old, frail house. The foundations seemed to creak with just the smallest breath, the slightest shift of his weight. It was altogether surprising how it did not crumple under this abrupt appearance of mass.
The assassin looked around curiously with just the slightest tilt of his head, taking note of the rotting holes in the floor above him, the tattered remains of rugs lying before him. The house seemed to invite him to follow as he stepped forward, floors expectantly creaking as he took the offer into the sitting room.
It opened up as just another addition to the abandoned home. Faded curtains of some previous, now indiscernible color lay lank and tired over windows doing an already decent job of keeping out the light with its grime and dust--along with any indication of his general location, he noted with some interest as he moved towards the glass. His hand wiped at the panes, only coming away with years of filth and the window seeming to become almost opaque in retaliation.
He turned away with the intent to leave. The house gave an angry creak, the host seeming not to like this as the doors swung shut with his first step. He gave the doors a raise of his eyebrow but beyond that, did not react except to cross his arms settle back for the wait. He had no intention of clawing his way out from underneath the house tonight.
The structure did not keep him waiting long though. He glanced over to the dust-lined tea-set ironically placed on the coffee table, supposing he should be grateful for the lack of wait. His ears picked up on the creak of a new guest after several minutes, the doors unlocking with a rusty click moments later. The assassin made no move to escape, knowing that the first warning still hung above.
