A low whistle. A steady clapping of the hands. A man now stood in the doorway to the once bustling home of gingerbread. Stepping out of the light and into the room he looked around the place in awe. "It's been quite a long time since I've set foot in here. I'm shocked to see it still standing, much less in a better condition than when I left it." His voice was low but not too deep, yet strangely gratifying to the ears. Leon's senses were assaulted with powerful fumes of lemon and cleaner, though it wasn't quite unpleasant.<br/><br/>Looking around he found the bar, a calling card, then a woman plopped lazily into a chair. She had the look of a maid, what with her apron and the frazzled expression. "My, my. Are you the one responsible for keeping this place so tidy?"