At hearing the question, he reached his hand down into his pocket. The same pocket that held a lighter, a case with a few cigarettes in it, and his keys, soon had his hand in it. He withdrew a small, folding pocket knife, and without bringing the blade out, he showed it to Dave. "Just this. My lil' utility knife (http://www.smith-wesson.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/Product4_750001_750051_765701_-1_757864_757853_757837_ProductDisplayErrorView_N). But, I keep it super-sharp, and I know the right end to hold it by." Again, with the chuckling, a light and airy sound.<br/><br/>He's pensive for a few moments, and decides.. "Ahh, screw it. If I disappear, guess I better let people know where it was," and so, using the tip of his knife, he very delicately scratched his name into the book. Jack 'turnip' Hearth.  He is so careful and has such control over the knife, that at no point would he be at risk for ripping the page; that is, unless something startled him, or the book decided to move of its own accord, or what-have-you.<br/><br/>His name is lightly etched into the page, so it may not be visible at just a glance, but looking intently at it should reveal it. That is, of course, if it remains mere scratches. "And as for doors, I say we take one of the ones that<em>didn't</em>open."