Lemm understands clear signs, like deliberate head motions and passing out on the desk. He does not presume to be confident enough to figure out what a small shift means, but they're normally so still that he looks up anyway as if he expects to see them getting up.

They aren't, and he is privately relieved.

Lemm works a little longer. Just long enough to disguise the idea that the thought of closing only came to him on a whim.

When he stands, keys in hand, and crosses to the door, he stands there looking out into the corridor for a moment.

"I'll just bring your nail inside." It is large. "I think it'll fit." Maybe.