Nervous Miniver made Skwisgaar get a bit more tense. He knew a high strung little poet hippie meant that there was a chance that even the slightest wrong move or word could set off an explosion of brutal proportions. However, he nodded and opened the door, walking into the room - it wasn't like it had been when he lived in Mordhaus, it was even more bare than before. It held a single couch and a wall of white amps, as well as a TV and a table. He plucked the guitar up as soon as he was at the couch and started plucking at it.