"Maybe we should just talk about it once you come out," Lennon said, suddenly weary of the questions and of talking to someone from behind a door. He sighed when she asked him to stay put but didn't answer. Like he was going anywhere until he'd seen that she had successfully gotten out. This was a new low, he thought, putting people in the house without any instructions as to how to get their doors to unlock.
He listened to the distant sounds of typing and then the click of a lock. The door opened and he was confronted with a tiny redhead, several years older than he if he'd had to guess. "Hi," he said in return. "I'm Lennon. My room's upstairs but I heard you when I was coming down to get some breakfast. You feel okay? Those drugs they give us are a bitch."