Marcel was up to the top of the stairs when he was heading back to his room. Thoughts of his past beginning to bubble up to the surface. Suddenly, he stopped moving... the feel of warmth on the back of his neck, the feel of breath, made him spin around quickly. "Who's there?" he said in a calm voice, when on the inside he was really worried about what may have been able to sneak up on him. As footsteps sounded in a corridor, he quickly left the stairs back the way he came to the window.<br/><br/>He had moven so quickly, that some of his hair had fallen out of his ponytail and now covered his eyes. He sighed, moving the hair with a steady hand to behind his ear. The squeaking noise of an old door opening made Marcel turn slowly. To which he noticed a painting hanging off the wall by just a crack on one side. He walked up to it, and opened the painting like a doorway...<br/>---<br/>At his room, Damian was standing calmly in front of Marcel's rooms door, eyes closed and head tipped down as he waited. His eyes slowly opened a few centimetres, and without moving his tipped head-- glanced to the one side of the hall in the direction of footsteps. His blue eyes seeming to glow as he kept his butler like posture with hands folded neatly behind his back. Posture, probably one of the best anyone had ever seen.