Willing his eyes to adjust faster, Mikey pressed his face closer to the glass as Spencer went in search of what they needed. He thought he could see things moving, maybe getting closer, but it was difficult to tell.
As he heard light footsteps behind him, he turned to face Spencer. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't see anything." And not knowing either way what was out there was making him anxious.
He stared forward silently at the way the shadows hid half of Spencer's face, painting his right cheek a sickly grey. It made him look calm, resolute. Selfishly he thought that this was likely to be the only moment they'd get alone in a while and he reached out and thumbed a line over that one shadowy cheekbone. "I'm glad you didn't get eaten by crazy house elves," he said softly.
A slow, sickening squeak had him freezing, hand still outstretched. It was unmistakeably the noise of a wet palm sliding down glass. "Shit."