"If you're going to hit me with that, I do hope I did something that was worth it." Neron's voice is a soft, sly whisper outside the Warden's door. He practically melts into the darkness of the corridor, with eyes like flint that pierce the shadows easily. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of Morgan, unable not to look at her dressed in less than a thousand layers. He likes what he sees, too, the Hailstorm shifting to lean against the doorframe, senses sharp for the sound of anyone approaching.
"No one saw me, and no one knows I'm here," he assures her instantly, knowing it's probably the first thing on her mind. (It definitely isn't the first thing on Neron's). "May I come in? You see, I was possessed by a sudden urge to do something reckless. And here I am."
