He turned paranoid eyes to his writing desk and unleashed his fury upon it, flipping through his books and journals, searching for any alteration, any sign there had been any foul play or invasion of his privacy. Again, nothing. He went through his drawers carefully as his paranoia slowly started to wind down. Nothing was out of place; nothing was missing. Not even a single coin or sapphire from his money drawer. Yes, he counted. He stood back from his desk, rubbing his head and brushing his hair down as he took a breath. He carefully looked through his personal journal again and again. Not one page was damaged, not in a way he wouldn’t notice not being his fault somehow. His paranoia turned towards the others on the ship.