Jan 18, 2014
He could understand a creak or two--it's the dead of winter and the windows have yet to be oiled. But certainly a pronounced crash is pushing it. It leads him to conclude this mustn't be anyone intelligent.
Oswald sighs and walks towards the nearest window that is not being pummeled. Upon opening it, he sticks his arm out and grabs the intruder by his golden braid and pulls.
(He really should have known.)
"What are you doing here?"