A swift thrill of unequivocal delight raced through the various pathways of Philip's thoughts, but it had not been due to any relief he felt upon discovering he would be at last left alone to hoard his stolen goods behind a doorway for which he lacked a proper key. Rather this sudden pulse of emotion was won not by Samuel's implied exit, instead conjured by what had likely been nothing more than a polite and neighbourly parting phrase. Even in his youth, Philip had always clung to any crumb of kindness, its barest sign enough to evoke a feeling of affectionate kinship and proclamations of friendship. Possibly this was due to some belief that Philip held that all feeling was temporary, and therefore best expressed upon its inception, while it was still fresh and at peak strength and honest. But whatever the reason behind such a tendency, Philip clamped down on the impulse, swallowing any statement he might have made to invite himself over and join Samuel at his place for a beer as though they had always been life-long pals. Philip was not completely lacking in common sense. One didn't prolong a conversation with someone who might very well suspect one of theft.
"Oh, you know me," he said at last with a foolishly pleased grin. "I've got plenty of experience in that field. I've never been one to not look to a friend for help so don't be surprised if I do take you up on that offer and swing by sometime." His voice trailed. Though he always had more to say, he let silence overtake the conversation, until at last he watched Samuel disappear into his apartment. With one last glance over his shoulder, Philip entered his own, the narrow strip of metal warmed from his own body heat slid out from one sleeve but remained hidden beneath the folds of the clean towel he carried, popping the door open with one skilled and forceful maneuver.