Old habits certainly do not die hard, because old habits don't much like lying down and dying at all. Lemm jolts awake at the jangle of the key in the latch, and just lies there completely still, staring at the ceiling. He locked it. Why is it unlocking. Carelessness? Did he drop the key while he was out? He glances down, he's sure he can find a Wanderer's Journal if not the crowbar -
- The crowbar isn't by the doorway where he always leaves it. In fact nothing is where it's supposed to be left. His back room yawns weird and empty in front of him. Where is anything, what the hell is he going to throw at an intruder now, what is going on?
Lemm rides out a very unpleasant wave of disorientation before the adrenaline chases him fully awake, and he gingerly brings both hands to his face and slides them down in a self-chastising little motion. Fool of a Relic Seeker today, aren't you.
Despite figuring out the most likely scenario, it's still with cautious silence that he collects himself and pushes himself to his feet, tilting his head this way and that just in case it is about to be useful not to be so terribly stiff. He creeps to the doorway and very carefully tweaks the curtain aside.
A cursory once-over reveals nothing. The shop is dingy and full of more shapes than usual, but none of them are moving. His gaze flicks insistently across to where he sits, but there is no small, familiar little Vessel perched on the countertop waiting to be noticed.
He's wrong, then. This sets him back to rattled.
Lemm lifts the curtain quietly out of his way, and sidesteps over to the abandoned umbrella stand to draw the crowbar back out of it like a Nail. Nothing lunges at him on the way. He foot-checks the door, just to make sure it's shut tight.
...
The crowbar ticks nervously against his leg. Room's empty. Room seems empty. Thought he heard...
"All right," he sighs, in case that prompts anything to jump out and bite him.
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syntheid
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Date: 2023-06-06 04:45 pm (UTC)- The crowbar isn't by the doorway where he always leaves it. In fact nothing is where it's supposed to be left. His back room yawns weird and empty in front of him. Where is anything, what the hell is he going to throw at an intruder now, what is going on?
Lemm rides out a very unpleasant wave of disorientation before the adrenaline chases him fully awake, and he gingerly brings both hands to his face and slides them down in a self-chastising little motion. Fool of a Relic Seeker today, aren't you.
Despite figuring out the most likely scenario, it's still with cautious silence that he collects himself and pushes himself to his feet, tilting his head this way and that just in case it is about to be useful not to be so terribly stiff. He creeps to the doorway and very carefully tweaks the curtain aside.
A cursory once-over reveals nothing. The shop is dingy and full of more shapes than usual, but none of them are moving. His gaze flicks insistently across to where he sits, but there is no small, familiar little Vessel perched on the countertop waiting to be noticed.
He's wrong, then. This sets him back to rattled.
Lemm lifts the curtain quietly out of his way, and sidesteps over to the abandoned umbrella stand to draw the crowbar back out of it like a Nail. Nothing lunges at him on the way. He foot-checks the door, just to make sure it's shut tight.
...
The crowbar ticks nervously against his leg. Room's empty. Room seems empty. Thought he heard...
"All right," he sighs, in case that prompts anything to jump out and bite him.