His stalking pauses at the creak, eyes sweeping up to the ceiling. Someone was upstairs. That's where he starts heading, ears almost aching with how it felt like he was stretching them. He didn't hear the humming but there was a clatter and a shuffle in the kitchen that sounded more like someone trying to go out the back door.

That's where he heads, but once he hits the linoleum and sees it empty, he takes a deep breath and hooks his thumb over the butt of it anyway as he looks around. They had only been here for about a year and a half, Athena and him, but he had hoped, had thought, that they were good days. He didn't know if he was relieved that Athena wasn't here or if he should be prepared for when she showed up. He could be completely wrong - it was only a year and a half. A drop in the very large bucket of time that was Life.

Maybe he should have started in Detroit. Maybe he was sentimental and stupid. Something itched in the back of his head - hadn't he been doing something? Did he check the upstairs yet?