"... might have been put on the other ..."<br/><br/>Standing in the open door, the man glanced up at the ringing bells and frowned.<br/><br/>"Huh. That's not much of a ..." he began, then abruptly stopped. His gaze shot down to his hand, still resting on the door handle, then to the door itself. A beat, then he yanked his hand away as from a hot coal and spun around.<br/><br/>"Syll?" He stared out into the front courtyard. Then, louder, "Félice?"<br/><br/>No reply. The man turned back into the shop, reflexively shutting the door behind him. He took a step toward the counter, stopped, patted his hips. Nodded on finding a pocket.<br/><br/>"Right pants, anyway."<br/><br/>He crossed to the bar.