The paper can stay where it is. Compared to the mess Lemm has recently made, it's nothing to note. He plucks another couple of sheets off the counter on his way past just in case.
Lemm weaves through some of the the junk he dragged out that didn't make it out to the corridor; the Knight is guided by a steadfast hand, and he moves slowly and smoothly through to the back. He holds the curtain, ushers them through first, and disregards the ugly flutter of nerves at the idea of bringing anyone else back here, again.
"Straight on," he mutters, now walking close behind them, steering them by his arm held forward over their shoulder so that they aren't made to let go.
The back room is (to Lemm) unsettlingly bare. Empty but for the tiny, barely-used kitchenette, and the curtained-off corner at the back where he sleeps - but private, in a way the shop isn't.
Safe in a way the shop isn't quite. The safest place he could think of to deposit the Knight back then, when they'd been upset and he hadn't known quite what to do about it so he'd fallen back on the golden rule: when you have something you suspect is delicate, you bring it straight home and you put it somewhere safe.
Lemm shepherds the Knight to the very back of the small back room and steers them to the collection of pillows he calls his bed. The safest place he's got.
"Better here than huddled under my counter," he explains, kind of. "Sit."
no subject
Lemm weaves through some of the the junk he dragged out that didn't make it out to the corridor; the Knight is guided by a steadfast hand, and he moves slowly and smoothly through to the back. He holds the curtain, ushers them through first, and disregards the ugly flutter of nerves at the idea of bringing anyone else back here, again.
"Straight on," he mutters, now walking close behind them, steering them by his arm held forward over their shoulder so that they aren't made to let go.
The back room is (to Lemm) unsettlingly bare. Empty but for the tiny, barely-used kitchenette, and the curtained-off corner at the back where he sleeps - but private, in a way the shop isn't.
Safe in a way the shop isn't quite. The safest place he could think of to deposit the Knight back then, when they'd been upset and he hadn't known quite what to do about it so he'd fallen back on the golden rule: when you have something you suspect is delicate, you bring it straight home and you put it somewhere safe.
Lemm shepherds the Knight to the very back of the small back room and steers them to the collection of pillows he calls his bed. The safest place he's got.
"Better here than huddled under my counter," he explains, kind of. "Sit."