He tossed onto his side, as per his usual routine to get to sleep, and that had been the moment in which the sleep faded and he felt what absolutely should not be there.
With a tensed back, he rose from the mattress, eyeing the stranger in the dim room, lit only by the pale moonlight seeping from the cracks of his worn out window shade. This intruder should not be here.
His breath slowed faintly, as a hand slid into the discarded satchel containing his weapon of choice and his ill gotten gains. Quietly, slowly, without the friction of the threads scraping against one another to reveal his retrieval, he obtained the crooked knife. It was still stained from use, unfortunately.
In one hand, he gripped the hilt as if his life depended on it; his knuckled splay white, which was a stark contrast to his tanned skin, due to his half Asain heritage. The other was free, yet, it slowly approached the person, rolling the body slowly enough to fail to rouse them. Their back his the mattress, face revealed.
Wait, why was he thinking that?
Aloud, he mirrored his thoughts with an incredulously shouted, “Ryou?! What are ya doing here?!”
He didn’t think about the other residents being disturbed; after all, he had a problem of his own that occupied his thoughts much more than being polite at such an hour.