He hadn't heard noise from downstairs, far from it. The bedroom was so well isolated from the rest of the apartment that he hadn't heard a thing. He had been dreaming about being at sea, about swimming down and down after a sinking woman he could not catch until he ran out of breath and woke up.
He got up and walked out of the bedroom. He hated that dream more than anything. It was more than likely he would get no sleep for the rest of the night, so he might as well go make yet another cup of coffee and stay up until morning. Maybe when the sun came up his body would finally succumb to exhaustion and give him sleep without the intrusion of nightmares.
He walked down the short hall within his bedroom and opened the doors that led to the stairs. There he stopped. There was a rustling noise from downstairs where, when he had gone to bed, there had been only silence.
He backed quietly into the bedroom, picking his phone up from one of the bedside tables. He didn't call 911, not yet. If there really was someone downstairs, he would call the police. But until he was sure there was a threat, he wasn't bringing strangers into his new home if he could help it.
He didn't have any kind of weaponry, although he'd likely have some after tonight. Stupid. What could he use?
There was a letter opener sitting on a table near the top of the stairs, and he picked it up, holding it at his side. It wasn't much, and it would do him no good at all if his intruder had a gun, but it would defend him if necessary. He carefully walked down the stairs, listening for more movement.