The black-haired boy dipped his head in the living room of your home, his natural black hair cascading down in front of his eyes. Szymon's head raised once again when hearing the padding footsteps of your heavy slippers follow down the wooden stairs. "Your home is quite huge, no?"

Szymon let out a subdued chuckle when hearing you halt to a stop. He couldn't see your figure in the dark, but he knows you're at the top of the stairs. Will you talk? Run? Hide? Maybe even call the police?