He followed, nodding silently to the guy, but not saying a word. It wasn't that he didn't believe the person who was mute, but that he didn't want to take a chance. He was starting to believe the guy was Sherlock Holmes, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't take a chance, even as he moved.
His hands in his pockets, he walked the stairs, taking them one at a time, footsteps silent, until they came to the apartment. He looked around drinking it in, listening more than anything else. He wanted to be sure, be 100% certain that he had an out.
He didn't even trust his friends anymore. Not after what Edward had done. Certainly, he knew the stakes, and he'd forgiven him, but that didn't mean he was going to be stupid again. He listened for every out, to find the escape routes just in case. He'd become paranoid.
"So," he said, once the doors were closed, and they were alone. "I'm not sure I know what this is about."
no subject
His hands in his pockets, he walked the stairs, taking them one at a time, footsteps silent, until they came to the apartment. He looked around drinking it in, listening more than anything else. He wanted to be sure, be 100% certain that he had an out.
He didn't even trust his friends anymore. Not after what Edward had done. Certainly, he knew the stakes, and he'd forgiven him, but that didn't mean he was going to be stupid again. He listened for every out, to find the escape routes just in case. He'd become paranoid.
"So," he said, once the doors were closed, and they were alone. "I'm not sure I know what this is about."