"Hey!" she protested, as the man pushed her aside, pulling out lockpicks. I glared at him; even if we were invited, picking the lock was neither polite, nor lawful. She opened her mouth to reprimand him, when he opened the door, without needing to pick it. Sighing softly, she's about to follow him into the strange room, when she hears the voice behind her, and stiffens. She says nothing, knowing that she was not a liar, and inwardly scolding herself... what a marvelous way to start this encounter, wasn't it?<br/><br/>And who was this girl slipping past them as if she owned the place? Maybe she did.