[He wouldn't mind if she were to attempt to hang on to him; honestly, he's more surprised that she isn't. Straining to see with the glow of his pistol is not doing his eyes any good. His gaze switches between the dark and Chihiro. He can see the determination in her eyes and her fear in the set of her jaw, and is flat out impressed by her composure. This is one tough-as-nails little girl.
The cold breeze is unexpected, and it sets the hairs on his arms and at the nape of his neck prickling uncomfortably. His own footsteps are quiet, muffled by the thick carpet lining the hallway floor, but in the dead silence, he almost thinks he can hear other footsteps--
--He jumps sharply when Chihiro bumps into him, and freezes in place while he tries to decide if the racing of his heart is just an unprecedented amount adrenaline and unease, or if he's having a heart attack.]
Uh.
[He gulps, looks down at his feet, then to Chihiro, and back to his feet. It's just as well she startled him into stopping when she did, because now that he is stopped, he can just make out the edge of a step, and a hint of a banister...a staircase leading down.]
No. But there's stairs...
[He hesitates briefly, and in the silence he's very, unpleasantly certain that he's not imagining those footsteps, wet and squelching and deliberate. Maybe it's the owner of the hair from the bath, looking for a dry towel? The former seems likely...the latter, doubtful.]
S-stay close, okay? You can hang on to my jacket if you want to.
[He lowers his pistol, aiming it and its light at the ground, which thankfully brings a small but helpful amount of definition to the steps in front of him. He reaches gingerly for the banister with his free hand; it feels normal under his fingertips, like smooth, dry, polished wood. He only hesitates for long enough to make sure Chihiro's on track to follow him, before stepping down.]
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The cold breeze is unexpected, and it sets the hairs on his arms and at the nape of his neck prickling uncomfortably. His own footsteps are quiet, muffled by the thick carpet lining the hallway floor, but in the dead silence, he almost thinks he can hear other footsteps--
--He jumps sharply when Chihiro bumps into him, and freezes in place while he tries to decide if the racing of his heart is just an unprecedented amount adrenaline and unease, or if he's having a heart attack.]
Uh.
[He gulps, looks down at his feet, then to Chihiro, and back to his feet. It's just as well she startled him into stopping when she did, because now that he is stopped, he can just make out the edge of a step, and a hint of a banister...a staircase leading down.]
No. But there's stairs...
[He hesitates briefly, and in the silence he's very, unpleasantly certain that he's not imagining those footsteps, wet and squelching and deliberate. Maybe it's the owner of the hair from the bath, looking for a dry towel? The former seems likely...the latter, doubtful.]
S-stay close, okay? You can hang on to my jacket if you want to.
[He lowers his pistol, aiming it and its light at the ground, which thankfully brings a small but helpful amount of definition to the steps in front of him. He reaches gingerly for the banister with his free hand; it feels normal under his fingertips, like smooth, dry, polished wood. He only hesitates for long enough to make sure Chihiro's on track to follow him, before stepping down.]