He slid around the bed soundlessly, looking around the room that she occupied and moving closer to the drawer in question. He stopped in front of it, listening to sounds of her bathing, but she was pretty quiet. Clearly she was just soaking away her worries, but he wasn't bothered by the opportunity presented to him either. His fingers curled around the edges of the drawer as he slid it out, wrinkling his nose at the faint sound. That was what one got with old furniture.
He hissed like a scalded cat at her shout from the bathroom, jumping nearly the roof and landing on his feet. He looked briefly into the drawer and slammed it home again with no more than a glance, not bothering to hide his presence as he left her room and went into his instead. He needed to work on snooping through her stuff more often, though... that folder had been written in Russian dialect. Why did she have a Russian file?
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I've been in it a bit and yeah.. scary
He hissed like a scalded cat at her shout from the bathroom, jumping nearly the roof and landing on his feet. He looked briefly into the drawer and slammed it home again with no more than a glance, not bothering to hide his presence as he left her room and went into his instead. He needed to work on snooping through her stuff more often, though... that folder had been written in Russian dialect. Why did she have a Russian file?