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One Man, Many Faces (1)
The pitter-patter of footsteps outside my door was an inadequate warning for a deafening slam against my door so early in the morning. It was as if someone had run at full speed only to go splat.
Jolting out of bed with a blade in hand and bleary eyes from my half-asleep state, I prepared for an attack that never came. Nash would be proud of me if he knew how well-trained I'd become. The knocking sound persisted and immediately my mind narrowed down to the few people who had the tenacity to request my attention at this ungodly hour.
"Open the door!" a keening whine grated on my nerves. That was definitely zeroing my options to one very noisy Alastair Campbell.
Another set of knocking had me stumbling for my pants while finding a safe place to hide my Night Walker related equipment. "Cool your jets and let me find my pants!"
The pounding on my door ceased long enough for me to contemplate ignoring the idiot outside
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