7:30<br/>The occupants of the house seemed to be having a good old time. Nathan's own car had broken down after a particularly insane hydroplaning event on the road behind the inn. Marianne had just given her adress to the current occupants of the house when Nathan emerged from the treeline about 100 meters away. He couldn't see their parked cars through the ungodly rain currently freezing his ill-prepaired body. His superboy tshirt was plastered to his chest by the liquid bullets.<br/><br/>When he finally reached the back porch of the inn. Nathan tried the door, and was genuinely heartbroken when it didn't open.<br/><br/>"Oh come on, it's abandoned. It's supposed to be earily unlocked." He hadn't had much luck tonight. The only house he stopped at to ask for directions an old man threatened to shoot him on the spot. He took that as a bad sign.<br/><br/>He squinted through the darkness and icy downpour. A couple feet to his right a window taunted him. 'come on mate. No.' He started a mental conversation with himself. 'But nobody's inside.' 'This is the third most illegal thing you've ever done.' 'It'll be fine. Should have grabbed the tazer.' Without further debate with himself he walked over to the window. It slid conveniently open. He hefted himself off the ground and through the window. Once he entered he caught only the last of the murmured conversation Marianne had started. He couldn't exactly register that it was more people. In fact our sad little dork here kind of freaked. He flailed a bit, likely causing a lot of commotion. He finally fought himself free, falling onto the floor and feeling around simply to add a third word that starts with f to this catastrophe.<br/><br/>The tile told him he was either in the bathroom or the kitchen. The island he was currently pulling himself up on told him it was the latter. The rusty knife he almost cut himself on freaked him out again and he backed up, falling again. The leather jacket he wore cushioned his fall only minimally. Some light would really help about now.