If the apartment wasn't so quiet, Krok might never have heard that faint noise at the door. It's no knock, certainly, much too soft. He sits up a little, curious but a little too gunshy to be eager. It's never occurred to him that anyone he knows would be that… tentative.

"Who's there?" he asks, the added volume turning his sandpaper-raw voice thick and gravelly. There's no reason to be alarmed, he tells himself; Spinister is barely a shout away. But he's starting to wish he could at least get up to lock the door.