[ He rolls his eyes a little at her insistence, then promptly steps aside, pushing his door further open so she can look inside. There's nothing there, and no one else. It's a simple bed, barely rustled from where he'd been sitting, a single candle lit on the nightstand, and a small notebook with a pen beside it. On the table against the opposite wall, near the window, there's a kettle and a makeshift bunsen burner, and what's left of the free samples he scooped for something to eat. ]
Tell me exactly what you heard, so that I can tell you that it wasn't me?
no subject
Tell me exactly what you heard, so that I can tell you that it wasn't me?