there’s something in the house . / For Artair!
Dire Situations
"Cool. Cool cool cool." Artair's hands were clasped together, fingers interlocked except for his indexes. Those were extended and currently pressed against his lips. "When you say something is in the house, do you mean like-- an annoyed raccoon? Or maybe a opossum that will be easy to remove from the premises with a broom? Or do you me---."
A crash resounded from downstairs, and he winced. He could hear what were clearly shoes stepping on glass, crunching against the hardwood. More than one person, it sounded like.
Artair's voice dropped to a whisper. "Okay. The second one, then. This is fine." He slid the door shut to the room they were in for now, to hide them from immediate view. "Think they're friends of yours, or mine? Or are we just that lucky?"