Lucas listened to the familiar, yet old, sound of washing dishes. Something he himself never bothered to do until he himself got tired of eating with his hands, or a messenger subtly comments about it. He was about to go out and tell Shift he didn't have to do it, but a thought struck him right as he touched the handle. If Shift did it, he<span style="font-style: italic">wouldn't</span>have to do it and Shift would feel better about crashing with him.<br/>Perfect.<br/><br/>Getting ready for bed, Lucas pulled off his boots and socks, as well as his gloves. He never really took off his gloves, but they were getting rather dry. Hurting more than usual.<br/>He was in the middle of applying lotion to them, grimacing at the grotesque look, when a piercing shatter caused him to inhale sharply. Head spinning to the direction.<br/>Hands forgotten, he peeked out the door. Expecting the worse. Instead he got...Nothing. No Shift... Nothing.<br/>Deciding to investigate further, he moved to the kitchen. Eyes darting around for anything that seemed to of place.