Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160510171926/@comment-5543592-20160511215400

Crimson whistled to himself as he entered into his room, unlatching his cape and pulling at his uniform to loosen it, then froze.

The trunk which held his personal items was sitting open and, obviously, unlocked.

He immediately rolled to the side, expecting an attack, since no thief in their right mind would leave evidence of their crime so obvious, and assumed he must've caught someone in the act. But no attack came, and Crimson stayed in a low crouch, expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. He slowly moved around the room on the balls of his feet, peeking behind furniture and under it, finding nothing.

He frowned, but relaxed. At least he wasn't in danger-- but then immediately tensed up again. He returned to the trunk. scanned it's contents, then began rifling through it. It became obvious pretty quickly that nothing valuable had been taken, other than a couple bottles of his brandy.

He smiled broadly. Just some drunk looking for a free drink, probably, Crimson decided as he pulled out one of the clear bottles full of it's blue liquid, then shut the trunk and relocked it. He'd probably need to have Locksmith, who was aptly named, fix him up a better lock.

He uncorked the bottle, downed it's contents, and then set it aside, before rising, retrieving his cloak, and heading back out again.