Clive held his breath as Ms. Agnus gave her musk-rat one last dunk before carefully dangling it from the tail into her mouth. An air of quiet dignity surrounded her as she chewed, leaving Clive bumbling for words of apology to the sounds of tiny bones crunching and the eerie sight of a hundred eyes opening around the room. Safe in his pocket, Gecko decided to go back to shivering.

“I am well aware of what the Doormen do,” said Ms. Agnus, taking a moment to remove a perfectly cubed collection of bones from her mouth. She left it on the side of her saucer. “After all, I’m no immigrant, I was practically born here. As was my late husband, may-he-rest-in-peace-beside-me.”

“No children though?” Clive feebly offered as he tried to ignore the fact the walls had started to breathe as well as blink.

“Ms. Agnus,” came the muffled voice of Gecko. “You have a choice.”
“If only I did,” sighed Ms. Agnus.
“It’s not like we don’t offer relocation.”
“If I am moved, stitchling, it will be to my grave.”