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Lindsey McDonald (stopitevilhand) wrote in wariscoming,

His foot was already up on the waist high wall, hands searching for somewhere to hold onto that wasn't going to end up slicing his palms to shreds. The coat was thrown over the windowsill to keep him from catching the leg of his jeans on the tiny broken shards still clinging to the wood of the frame. Breaking and entering wasn't a skill he'd picked up until recently, something to assist evasion and survival. Still, those skills were rudimentary at best. It shouldn't have mattered in a ghost town where someone had already done the hard part for him.

The crunch of glass was accompanied by a voice. Lindsey finally found one handhold and paused for a moment, glancing back at the owner of the voice, some teenager out and wandering around. The black eyes that he'd been taught to look for were absent but it could have easily been a demon posing as the human. Either way, he wasn't feeling concerned.

He glanced at the open window, then back at the kid. "Really? You think no one's home?" he asked dryly. "Remarkably keen observation, Sherlock." From what he could see, it looked like the owners had abandoned ship a while back. Half the shelves were empty and the only thing actually working was a flickering light in one of the refrigerators at the back.

Finding another handhold, he pulled himself up and then stepped through the broken window, avoiding the jagged edges, and dropped to the floor. If he thought telling him that much was going to dissuade him from finding something to eat, he had another thing coming.