She'd given him the key and he'd let himself in. He'd just waited around, picked up a thing here and there, looked at it like it was a relic of a lost age. Even if here everything is perfectly sensible. He hears the door close and turns to it, and she doesn't notice him. Just slumps with her face in her hands.

Good news is she made it.

Bad news is they didn't.

So that's how it ends for them, huh? Not just dead, but a lotta closed doors. He'll figure it out. He always gets out.

His footsteps are loud, plodding, not at all as sneaky as they could be, and he crouches in front of her with his arms folded on his knees.

"Hey Darlin'."