<div style="text-align: justify;">Pity rushed over Jonathan. <span style="font-style: italic">Poor thing. I hope she doesn't end up being afraid of her own home.</span><br/><br/>"You just sit down for now, Miss Allen," he said, gently nudging her towards a comfortable looking chair that stood in the corner. He was not sure he would be able to catch her if she decided to faint, at least not nearly as elegantly as he would like to. She did look a bit pale, so her request that he take a look in her bedroom did not come as a surprise to him. He nodded. She had had her fair share of surprises for the day.<br/><br/>Still on edge from the lack of murderous thieves in the thrashed apartment, Jonathan took the few steps towards the door the girl had indicated as quietly as he could - until he realized that they had already made such a ruckus that any miscreants left would have either a) disappeared or b) already attempted to get rid of them. The thirty-three year old grown man felt his cheeks turn hot, glad that his client could not see his face. He reached out and turned the handle in a deliberately very normal and not at all quiet way. The door opened with a gentle click. What Jonathan saw in that 5 inch gap made him stop dead and his breath hitch in his throat.<br/><br/>He hastily closed the door again, hoping that Miss Allen had not seen anything from behind him. He slowly turned his head towards her; a thin smile stretching automatically across his face. <span style="font-style: italic">There is a dead man in her bedroom. Another dead man. Swell. She's attracting corpses like honey attracts flies.</span> Carefully cracking it open just a sliver, Jonathan took a second peek through the door. <span style="font-style: italic">Yup. Still there.</span> The man was lying far too still to just be taking a nap on Miss Allen's bedroom floor. His rounded belly was not moving at all. Jonathan coughed nervously into his fist. <br/><br/>"I think we might need the coppers anyway, Miss Allen."</div>