He’d never intended on being a criminal. Of course, like any child growing up, he’d contemplated his future on occasion, mostly questions. What would life be like, being adopted? What would he learn, what would he do, what kinds of people would he meet? He and his siblings had even talked about it, occasionally, speculating on the adventures they would have. Countries they could visit, technology they could see, all kinds of things. Once, he’d even asked his mother what the outside world would be like, what he would do when he was eventually adopted (and though he could no longer remember her exact answer, he realized now that he’d been given no real information at all).
Regardless, in all that he’d considered when thinking of a possible future, Norman had never questioned that he would be a law-abiding citizen. Of course he would be! Maybe a police officer, or a detective -- he’d always been fascinated by mysteries after all -- but even if not, always on the right side of the law.
He had certainly never envisioned himself breaking into an establishment at an absurd hour of the night, as he was currently doing. Or, well, attempting at any rate.
The front entrance of this hole-in-the-wall pizzeria was an old-style single door, chipped green paint in the front of a red brick building, with a tall glass window in the middle of it. It even seemed too narrow compared to the doorways he was used to. There were two locks, one on the handle and a deadbolt above it, and though they appeared much newer than the door itself, they didn’t seem to be much more complicated than the Grace Field House locks. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, and he’d be in and out. Hopefully unseen, if only because explaining why he was breaking and entering didn’t strike him as a particularly enjoyable pastime.
So Norman thought, until he happened to glance back to check for any unexpected company (whether it was one of “his own”, so to speak, or one of the infected) and found someone looking his direction. Only sheer force of will to keep calm prevented him from jumping out of his skin. He couldn’t quite make out the figure, let alone their expression to determine their opinion on his current preoccupation. He smiled, friendly, hoping they could see it and would take it at face value. He’d been lucky enough so far, in that regard, but expecting good fortune not to run out eventually would get him killed, he had no doubt.
He stood up from his crouching position, slowly enough to be nonthreatening, and mentally noting every possible escape route. That had become the norm, somehow. He had no intention of dying here.
“Hi. This is not what it looks like.” Well, it was, but not for the reasons that they probably thought. Hopefully, they had an amiable disposition and would accept his explanation. “I noticed a couple of Saint Fragments inside, and it turned out to be locked, and...well, I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not find out what happens if we don’t gather enough to help repair the firewall.” Assuming that was, indeed, the purpose they really served.
