Chapter Text
Tick. Tick. Tick-
He stared blankly forward, one hand on the door knob, the other clenched tightly next to him.
…Robert’s pissed.
It's been a few, relatively normal days since he’d returned to work. A few relatively normal days except for the small but very important fact that the lodgers have been getting on his nerves.
Randomly locked doors, objects just barely shifted to the left, floorboards slightly raised up and down- At best, these were all minor inconveniences, and at worst, workplace hazards. He didn't care much about these, they were slightly irritating, sure, but nothing he wasn't already used to. After all, over a year or so of dealing with these people had numbed him to most of their mischief.
It's the other, much less obvious parts that irked him, that made him dread every moment he had to spend in their vicinity.
He’s been doing his best to ignore the stares, the uncomfortable tingling down his spine, the constant incomprehensible muttering his ears simply couldn't ignore.
But it gets to a point.
He can no longer stand it. He needed to breathe, needed to run. He needed to hide somewhere far and difficult to reach. He’d even take an actively rotting, half-collapsed building at this point, he just needed to be anywhere but here.
But alas, he forced himself to tolerate it all, mostly keeping himself in Henry's office and pretending to fill out the dubious paperwork.
(Constantly, he found himself doing double takes at the terms and conditions, swearing that it had just said something that it shouldn't have. Removing oneself from the universe? Opting out of space and time? God, he didn't quite know, didn't quite remember. But every time he tries to look the words over once more, they change, and everything in the room seems to freeze. And he’ll sit there, pencil in hand, eyes locked onto pages as if he stared long enough they'll eventually change back.
And then the moment will pass. And Robert will force himself to stand up, recheck the locks, and get back to work.
Someone was watching him: every hour, every second, every waking moment.
He cannot help the paranoia that follows his every move, how could he? Who wouldn't be paranoid in a situation like this? In a place with people he barely understood, with people who barely understood him?
That's why he’d practically locked himself in Henry's office, hoping that with time, the oddities would simply disappear. Out of sight, out of mind. It didn't need to be his problem.
…And yet, a part of him remained hopeful that… that his paranoia was entirely unwarranted, that the lodgers weren't actually trying to harm him.
But every passing moment makes him lose a little bit of hope.)
Eventually, against his persistent paranoia, he’d decided to leave. It would be safer at home, as long as no one decided to follow him. If he timed things right, he would've been able to slip past the doors without issue.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick-
…Despite himself, he laughs.
The knob does nothing but rattle. The hope still left in him threatens to extinguish.
The lodgers locked the damn doors, again.
…He wanted to go home. He needed to go home. He hasn't been home in ages.
(This damn place felt like a prison, falsely disguised in pretty lights and nostalgia, the weight of his past wrongs being the only thing that truly kept him there.)
The main exit was locked.
And with that, poof! Whatever tentative peace he’d recently achieved with its residents gone in an instant.
He just needed to leave this stuffy place, just for a single moment. He just needed some space to breathe, some time to brace himself for dealing with this goddamn mess.
But no, of course he wasn't allowed to have even that, the front doors just had to be locked.
…God, he was tired of this.
Robert let out another laugh, tired and harsh. All the lodgers practically snapped their heads around to stare at him, quickly becoming distracted from whatever trivial chatter they were in the middle of. He found that he couldn't give less of a damn.
“Oh, this again,” he hissed. “What a lovely joke you have all pulled off. God, how daft am I to fall for such a silly little thing?” Robert laughed again, being sure to convey exactly how irritated he was with them all. Maybe it'll finally convince them to lay off on the jokes for the rest of the night. “Congratulations!”
The lodgers shifted in place, clearly uncomfortable with his sudden, very emotional display.
He didn't care.
Still, Robert forced himself to tone down the hysterics. He was just exhausted, entirely done. “…Joke’s over,” he said, far more coolly. “So please, unlock the door now.”
They blankly stared at him.
The irritation grew.
“Come on, we don't have all night. Unlock the door and I’ll be on my merry way, I won't even bother telling Jekyll about this.” Hell, he didn't care enough to put in the effort to scold them either, he just wanted to leave.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Nothing.
He waited.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Eventually, movement. But… not towards the door.
Robert scoffed. Exactly what were they all attempting to achieve?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Quietly, slowly, (finally,) Griffin walked up to him.
For a split second, he caught something… nervous in his expression. Robert did his best not to visibly react, it would do no good wavering now.
The lodger pulled his sunglasses up, revealing his pale, yet striking, blue eyes. There wasn't an ounce of mirth in his expression. “You’re saying that the front doors are locked.”
…Did he have his ears glued shut? “Yes, and I’d like to leave, so please open these doors before I end up hopping out of a window again.”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Griffin didn’t move towards the doors. None of the lodgers moved towards the doors. “…Where are your keys?” he patiently (irritatingly) asked.
“Lost.” A few days ago, when Robert had finally remembered to retrieve his coat from Henry's office, he’d quickly discovered that the spare keys he’d normally carried with him were not in his pockets.
He’d searched everywhere: all over Henry's office, all over the foyer, all over the Society.
Nothing. Not even the key ring.
Quickly, he’d given up. Henry had promised him that he’d get some new ones some time next week, the same promise he made to Rachel the month before when her keys had disappeared as well.
Of course, she’d never received them. Henry simply didn't have the time.
He doubted that Henry would have any time for him either.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Griffin still didn't open his mouth.
“…What are we waiting for?” Robert then half-turned to the first window in sight, half-scowling. “When I said to open the doors, I meant to open them now, else I will-”
“Doctor Lanyon,” Griffin interrupted, causing Robert to snap his own jaw shut in surprise. “No one here has locked those bloody doors, no one here has the bloody keys. Even if they did, I know that these idiots have enough common sense not to try. It's a goddamn stupid idea, locking our main exit, and it's not even entertaining to watch. Literally the only idiot that would ever do that is Hyde because he doesn't think over the consequences of any of his actions.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“…Hyde didn't do this.”
A pause.
“…How would you know?” Ito asked, slow and careful. “He’s familiar with every nook and cranny here, and he steals Jekyll’s keys rather often. He’s capable and mischievous enough to be the culprit, you know that.”
Robert pushed down the impulse to say something incredibly stupid, again. There was no need to cause any more trouble for himself. He slowly met both their gazes. “...Hyde was with me when we were both locked out of the Society a few days ago. Neither of us had our keys on us. I’d accidentally left my coat inside and Hyde couldn't find his spares. And God, do believe me, he tried.”
“A few days ago… During the storm?” Pennebrygg asked.
Robert nodded. When else had he been locked out of this very building? “Hyde and I were outside, sitting on the porch. When we tried to re-enter the Society, the doors were locked shut. And I promise you, the locks were not jammed.” He’d checked. Over and over.
There had been nothing wrong with them, nothing at all.
Pennebrygg narrowed his eyes at him. “…But doors don't just lock themselves.”
“Well, someone on the inside must have-”
“No, we were all in the foyer, no one had gotten even close to the front doors. I watched.”
The other lodgers cautiously started nodding, all making noises of agreement.
Robert paused, taking a moment to stare at them all. For once, they all seemed… serious.
“…You're being truthful, Pennebrygg?”
Pennebrygg slowly nodded. “It was raining outside, we wouldn't lock any of our own out in the rain for that long. …Did you knock?”
A pause. “As hard as I could.”
“…And yet, somehow, none of us heard.” Ito awkwardly stared in his direction. “I… I was specifically tasked with keeping an ear out for any situations like that one… I must have missed it with all the rain pouring down.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“…Oh.”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“That's… alright,” God, now Robert felt like a horrible person. Here he was, accusing everyone of things they didn't even do, all over an honest mistake. He’d been on decently good terms with the lodgers, what was he doing? “It’s certainly not your fault, the rain was rather lou-”
“Why the hell didn't Zosi immediately start scratching at the doors?”
Ito blankly blinked at Helsby. “…What?”
Helsby cleared his throat. “Zosi? Jekyll's church grim that follows him everywhere? He likes you too, Doctor Lanyon. Whenever Jekyll's not around, you're the one he immediately attaches to. He should have immediately started running to the door the second he smelled you coming.”
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“…I’m rather certain the rain would have clogged up Zosimos's sense of smell.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“Well, possibly.” Maijabi hummed a bit, a low and familiar tune, one that was vaguely haunting and comforting at the same time. The older lodger had been entirely silent before this, but as always, he’d been listening in. “But as a church grim, he’d be able to sense your soul, and your soul’s presence cannot be so easily masked. It's the very reason why the soul is the first thing used to identify a spirit, its potentness makes it very reliable.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“…So he’d know whether or not I’m alive?”
It was a curious question, likely one completely unrelated to their current issue. But, Henry had confirmed to him years ago that none of Zosimos's organs actually worked, most of his “senses” were more of a placebo effect from technically having most of his body still intact, and they weren't able to agree whether or not the church grim instinctively knew or had to learn the differences between a corpse and a living human being.
(Knowing him, Henry had probably long figured out the answer himself. He adored the church grim too much not to learn everything about him, and he likely told Robert of his discoveries at some point. Robert, unfortunately, did not have a perfect memory.)
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“Well… yes. The souls of the dead and the living move a bit differently, an older church grim like Zosimos would easily note the difference.”
Robert nodded. So Henry was right, it was a learned skill. “Which is the most probable reason why he didn't bother to check on me.” If Robert wasn't dead, Zosimos had no need to actively search him out.
A pause. “…No? A church grim should check regardless, it only changes how hastily they run over.”
“Zosimos isn't a traditional church grim,” he pointed out. Church grims had churches to protect, and God knows the Society was anything but.
“He still has the duties of a-”
“Regardless, we have far more pressing issues," Robert spun around to theatrically point at the front doors, only feeling a bit bad that he had to cut Maijabi off. Unfortunately, if he allowed this conversation to continue, Maijabi will keep talking and they'll get nothing productive done. “For example, that. How were they locked in the first place, and how can we un-lock them?”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
No one spoke. Whether they were too afraid to speak up or simply had no good ideas, Robert couldn't tell.
“…Look-”
Faintly (suddenly), Robert felt something cold brush against his neck, and he instinctively froze up, words quickly dying out.
Everyone’s gazes locked onto him.
Maijabi was no different, his expression full of concern, but unlike the others, he didn't instinctively move closer. He was rather thankful for that. “Are you alright, Doctor Lanyon?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
…Was he alright?
It wasn't as if he was actively dying, his lungs were clear of dust and his mind relatively still sane.
He should be fine. Things were fine, at least it seemed to be.
But…
There was something… off.
Everything just felt… unsettlingly off-kilter, unsettlingly focused.
There was no room to breathe, only room to…
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
What was going on? Why was he suddenly doing so poorly again?
They’d removed the issue ages ago, hadn't they? Hell, he’d watched the wretched thing go up in flames, had felt his lungs clear as the four-wheeled devil screamed in agony.
And yet. He was back to suffocating.
He tried to find himself an answer.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
But nothing was wrong with the foyer. Nothing at all.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…He forced himself to take a deep breath. Faint-hearted, his closest friends often joked. He was just being faint-hearted, that was all. Oh, if only Henry was here to spew his well-meaning optimism. It would at least give him something to focus on instead of being tricked into worrying about non-existent stressors.
“…Doctor Lanyon?” Maijabi called out. “Are you…?”
Ah. He’d been asked a question a bit ago. Slowly, Robert detached himself from his odd, hazy trance. “…Yes. I just… I thought I spotted something, but I suppose I was mistaken. Thank you for asking, Maijabi.” He allowed his body to relax, ignoring how tightly wound it felt. “So… we’re certain that no one locked the front doors?”
No one spoke. He only received looks of… confusion. Some stared at the front doors, others stared at him.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Nothing but silence. Nothing but… fear.
No one looked as if they were even mentally congratulating themselves for successfully pranking the entire Society. No.
Just, fear.
…Something in Robert twisted even more. They all seemed genuine.
But the doors were still locked.
Robert nervously swallowed. That's… fine. There were other exits. He could simply use the back door, get himself a new set of keys and deal with the root of the problem in a few days.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Wait.
The Society didn't have a back door.
The “back door” of the Society was quite literally the kitchen window. And Robert didn't actually plan on jumping from such heights ever again. Last time he jumped out of a window, the pain had been delayed, hitting him the morning after, and his whole body ached for days.
The window wasn't worth it, even if this one was only half the distance to the ground than last time.
But then… how else was he supposed to get out?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…How was anyone supposed to get out?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…Oh. Oh God.
The lodgers' faces all begin to shift.
Despite the silence, Robert knew that they’d all reached the same conclusion.
The front doors were locked.
No one had the keys.
They were TRAPPED.
(Dread. All Robert could feel was dread. The familiar feeling of breathlessness taunted him, and God, he wishes that it would remind him of ribbons and larkspurs instead of dust and delusions.
Alas, he stood there, frozen.
Cowardly standing, cowardly staring forward.
Faint-hearted.)
…The foyer devolved into chaos.
In less than five seconds, a swarm of lodgers attempted to turn themselves into a battering ram, all quickly bouncing off the doors without even causing a dent.
Only a few seconds after that, Bird threw a literal chair in their direction, nearly splitting Luckett’s skull open.
And when that didn't work, Lavender grabbed a random artifact from a random display they still had up, and started rapidly spitting out a bunch of Latin, causing the door to briefly glow a deep blue and visibly begin warping at the edges.
Still, the doors didn't budge.
However, Sinnett seemed to believe that Lavender had the right idea, and grabbed a different artifact to start saying a bunch of random Latin words with. (…Seriously, why did it sound as if he was quite literally blurting out every random bit of Latin he knows? At least Lavender had some sort of theme going on, did Sinnett have any idea how that thing was meant to work?)
(Considering the way that Maijabi was quietly chuckling at him and how hard Helsby was choking, the answer was probably no.
Despite this laughter, it was clear that they were both nervous at the failed attempts. Maijabi stayed put, but Helsby had quickly run up to Griffin, both of which were now actively attempting to pry open a window with a scalpel they’d somehow gotten their hands on. To everyone's dismay, it was not working.)
Robert, dumbly, just continued to stand there. Just… staring at the other windows as everyone around him turned their inward panic into outward chaos.
What were they supposed to do? Why was he being so useless right now?
He needed… he wanted…
“Why the FUCK are all the windows suddenly BULLETPROOF!?” A familiar, shrill voice booms through the foyer. Despite this, Robert finds himself perking up, and immediately searching the crowd for him. Quickly, he spotted the messy bright blond amongst the colorful crowd, and Robert beamed. “Which one of you BASTARDS switched out the fucking WINDOW PANES!?“
Wait. The smile on Robert's face transformed into a look of dismay. Bulletproof? “You shot at the windows?” God- “Who in their right mind decided to give you a gun!?”
Hyde, looking wilder than he usually did (hair sticking out in all directions, bright eyes rapidly flickering as he looked over the crowd of lodgers), turned towards him and scoffed, waving the ‘metaphorical’ (very physical) problem off. “The gun is the least of our problems.”
“I-” Nevermind. Robert looked at the front doors, the ones that Luckett was currently attempting (and somehow failing) to attach a few grenades to, and sighed. Best to tell him what was going on before he decided to try something stupid and drastic. “The doors are locked again.” He said it quickly, with as little panic as he could in hopes that Hyde would keep himself relatively calm.
Hyde stared. “What?”
Ito repeated Robert’s words for him. “The front doors are locked, and no one has the keys.”
“…WHAT?”
Archer nervously smiled at Hyde, completely ignoring how dumbfounded he looked. “Do you have the keys?”
A slow blink. Straight silence. The lodgers nervously waited for an answer.
Robert, unfortunately, already knew.
“I… don't?” Another very slow blink. It reminded Robert of a cat, but Hyde looked anything but happy. “…You're being serious, no one has the fucking keys?”
More… silence.
“…What the fuck?” he whispered. “What the FUCK?!
Robert looked at him with poorly veiled concern. “Hyde-”
“Don't Hyde me! How the hell did we all get trapped inside?”
“Please calm down,” Maijabi attempted to soothe.
“Calm? Calm?” He cackled. “You're telling me that no one is able to leave this building because somehow no one has any of the keys, and you want me to be calm?”
Griffin muttered something under his breath.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Griffin.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“Quit playing dumb, you know that I can still hear you!”
“Everyone, please shut up.” Immediately, everyone did. Ito took a deep breath. “Arguing will not get us any closer to figuring out what the hell’s going on.” She turned to Hyde. “Tell us more about the window, which one did you try opening?”
After grumbling to himself, he eventually answered. “…Basically all of them. I started in the kitchen, and worked my way through most of the back windows and then some of the ones leading to the foyer. Not a single one of them opened.”
“And your bulletproof comment?”
“Got pissed at the kitchen window, and found a pistol.”
Robert held back the urge to groan. That was most certainly his, who else was explicitly permitted by Rachel to hide firearms in her workspace? (If he finds that the menace used up all of his bullets, he swears to God, he’ll-)
(Breathe in, breathe out. There was no need for dramatics right now.)
“So…” Robert cautiously started, forcing himself to sound as calm as possible, “the windows are bulletproof.”
“Yep.”
“Did you try using a knife?”
Hyde stared at him. “It's bulletproof, what the hell is a fucking kitchen knife supposed to do?”
“Did you try?”
A pause. “…Yeah.”
Oh… He’d been hoping that it could have been a “magic spell” of some sort that only accounted for bullets. “Well then, unfortunately, the front doors seem to be magic and people proof.”
Hyde quickly glanced at the mess the lodgers had left in their attempts to break open the front door. He doesn't even snicker at the sight. “…Did any of you assholes try lockpicking it?”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…Oh. “That's actually… far more reasonable than whatever we’ve all been doing.” How come none of them thought of that?
…He then remembered something Ito and Flowers had mentioned to him long ago at the museum, when they’d sent Hyde off to the roof.
“…Did Jekyll and I ever get to replacing those broken lockpicking tools of yours, Miss Flowers?”
The lodger in question seemed… stunned to be acknowledged. “Oh… er… I don't believe so.”
Lovely. The “old man” comments from Richard were actually becoming reality. He looked over at the other lodgers, not quite looking at anyone in particular. “Does anyone have any working lockpicks?”
“Probably?” Sinnett fidgeted with his half-functional prosthetic. Seems like Henry wasn't the only one procrastinating on his duties. “I could run up to my lab and look for it, but it's definitely going to take a while.”
Well, at least the option’s available. “…Alright. Anyone else?”
The lodgers take a moment to mutter amongst themselves. Eventually, many shake their heads, all saying that their lock picking tools had mysteriously disappeared sometime a few days ago, and that they'd all likely misplaced it somewhere in their labs.
It sounded like a horribly thought out excuse, how could so many people lose the same type of object in the same exact way, all at the same time?
Robert would've laughed at the horribly timed stupidity if he wasn't also trapped in the building with them.
But also… despite everything, he didn't believe that any of them were lying. No one was celebrating their situation. With every person that confirmed their lack of lockpicking tools, the general anxiousness of the group rose, with the only thing preventing everyone from throwing themselves at the front doors again being Sinnett's half-certainty that his lockpicks still existed somewhere in his lab.
Still…
“I sincerely hope lockpicking isn’t our only option out of here.” When no one responds to him, Robert sighed. He’d seriously prefer not to wait all that time just for Sinnett to maybe find his lockpicking tools. Waiting around the Society full of lodgers for an indefinite time sounded… incredibly draining.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…Yeah, Robert didn't want to do that. The entire reason he wanted to leave the Society was because the lodgers (while not being the ones to lock the front doors) were a lot to deal with sometimes.
And…
He subtly glanced at Hyde.
Admittedly, it was no longer home that he was longing for.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…Maybe, this time, they could go somewhere that only Robert knew about.
Somewhere like… like the rather pretty lake not too far from his home, the one that was always void of people every time he visits.
They could play a small game of ducks and drakes (which hopefully wouldn't devolve into playful violence) and just… walk around the edge of the lake together, talking about how they’d both like to throw a rock or two through Stride’s windows.
God, that sounded really nice. A night time stroll around a (relatively) clear lake as the moon and stars shined brightly above them.
And maybe, it'll even rain again, and they’ll end up sharing another dance. Hands clasped together, feet moving in tandem, eyes locked-
Hyde’s eyes suddenly snapped onto him.
Robert immediately broke eye contact, face slightly burning in embarrassment. Screw his mind and its stupid self-indulgent daydreams.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
…However, his point still stands, Robert wanted to leave the Society as soon as possible.
And he doubted that the lodgers would enjoy being locked up in one place as if they were prisoners. The Society was never meant to be prison-adjacent, not to the lodgers.
But with the front doors locked, it almost felt like it.
How were they supposed to leave?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
God, they might be stuck here for a long time.
The Society wasn't that popular with the general public, most of the patrons preferred to meet outside the Society and most Londoners were too scared to even step foot into the foyer. The only somewhat regular presence were the police officers, specifically one Sergeant Brokenshire, though he mostly talked to Henry instead of actually inspecting the place.
Other than that… the Society was mostly left alone.
…Who knows how long it'll take for someone to even notice?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Would… anyone notice?
…God.
He wasn't sure about the lodgers, but he certainly knew that most of the people in his own life wouldn't. Certainly not his relatives that he actively avoids, certainly not his few dear friends that he barely sees nowadays, and certainly not his wife who had been randomly forced into visiting her parents for at least a few days.
No one was going to notice. No one but-
Henry.
A sliver of hope.
He held his breath.
“…Did any of you see Jekyll in the Society tonight?”
For once in his life, Robert’s begging that the answer’s no. God, please tell him that Henry was at home, oblivious to their current blight. God, please tell him that Henry was out there.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
All the lodgers slowly started shaking their heads, started confirming that no, none of them had seen him since the sun had started setting.
The sliver of hope shines brightly, relief immediately flowing into all of his bones.
The lodgers look at him, confused.
“I can just call Jekyll to open the doors for us.” Thank God for Henry's workaholic tendencies, even if it was irritating in literally every other aspect in his life. “He’ll certainly have no issue with having to quickly return to the Society for you all.”
Instantly, the panic that had seemed to overtake the lodgers disappeared.
Relief, pure relief.
Someone (Miss Ito, he thinks, it's difficult to be sure when everyone was crowding up the foyer) quickly pushed the Society's telephone towards him.
Quickly (with clear familiarity), he called his dear friend.
And waited.
And waited.
…And waited.
Nothing. Not… not even a message from the telephone operator telling him that no one was there to answer his call. It was just… silent.
Huh. Was Henry's telephone still broken?
(But that wouldn't explain the straight silence! It wasn't as if-
He quickly checked.
It wasn't as if the Society's telephone was broken as well! He should at least have the phone operator talking to him.)
…Robert, carefully, put down the telephone. The lodgers tensed up, some choosing to nervously chatter to one another, others zipping their mouths shut.
Henry's broken telephone was… not ideal, but it was certainly not the end of the world. He quickly made sure to reassure the lodgers of that. “It seems that Jekyll isn't receiving any calls at the moment. But that’s perfectly fine, there's no doubt that he’ll find us here tomorrow morning when he inevitably goes to work.”
Everyone seemed… marginally calmer.
After all, most of them knew of Henry's tendency to arrive at work at the earliest of hours. Their “plight” would certainly not last very long, tonight will simply be an entertaining story they'll all recall and laugh at later. At the very least, Henry would certainly be amused when Robert recounted to him the entire experience.
“Are you… sure, Doctor Lanyon?” Pennebrygg asked.
“I’m sure. Jekyll never willingly takes a day off, and I doubt he’ll magically end up bedridden the second we genuinely need him.” At most, they'll be waiting for about… seven hours? And it was already late, most of them would (should) be heading to bed anyway. “I wouldn't worry about it.”
Maijabi nodded, just barely (almost lazily) lifting up his eyepatch. “Listen to Doctor Lanyon, the Society is very quiet tonight. Not a single spirit in sight.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Robert hesitated. “…None?”
“None,” he confirmed offhandedly. “The foyer is… empty.” There is something… off about the way he says those words. The comfort that normally underlied Maijabi’s words… just gone. All that's left is the haunting and sinking feeling that only ever came with being watched.
But he doesn't allow himself to fall into paranoia again. Of all the many lodgers, Maijabi was someone he could trust, he was sure of it.
“Well then,” Robert turned around to address the lodgers, “I say we all retire for the night.” Despite all the lodgers immediately agreeing without complaint, he knew that the majority of them were already planning ways to not do that. He easily recognized their faux placidity as a mask for quiet rebellion because Henry had been the exact same way in university. “Everything will return to normal tomorrow morning,” he half-heartedly warned. “Do not use our current situation to get out of your responsibilities tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Helsby quickly brushed off. “We get it, doctor.” He turned towards the crowd (mostly looking at Griffin and Ito), and pulled out a butter knife. “Who wants to play the knife game with me?”
Immediately, everyone returned to the normal excitable states, the shouts of encouragement being loudest at the very center of the foyer.
He did his best to hide his wince. Griffin, somehow, spotted him, and did an odd… motion with his hands? (His hands moved downwards, but he was also pinching his index fingers and thumbs together. It reminded Robert of a conductor leading an orchestra, the motions smooth as silk.)
Whatever it meant, the foyer had quieted down, just a smidge.
It was certainly more tolerable.
He shot Griffin a grateful look before attempting to figure out tonight’s sleeping arrangements. (Unlike Henry, he did not wish to sleep on the sofa sitting in his office, that thing was not comfortable.)
While he quickly scoured the Society for ideas, he paused.
In the distance, Hyde was just standing there, silently watching as the lodgers continued on with their lives.
He wasn't blinking, wasn't moving. Just a dead stare forward, gaze unusually still.
It was almost as if Hyde didn't even exist, as if what Robert was looking at was actually just a mirage.
(The longer Robert stares, the more he begins questioning his own sense of reality. Hyde was there, he was sure of it. The lodgers had talked to him, had acknowledged his presence, there was absolutely no way that-
…But what are the chances that he’d imagined this entire conversation?)
…No. Robert doesn’t let himself spiral into that train of thought.
(Just to be sure, he pinches himself. To his relief, nothing around him changes.)
Breathe in, breathe out. He refocused on Hyde, who was still standing there, staring blankly into the distance.
Robert cautiously took a step forward, trying to find something in those blank eyes of his.
Blankly…
Staring…
Forward…
Wait. There's something there, something behind those dead eyes.
There’s…
There’s…
There’s…
…FEAR.
As he directly met his gaze, a harsh chill ran right down his spine.
He shuddered.
It was incredibly unsettling, Robert felt a bit of his earlier paranoia return.
But he didn't let it consume him. He forced his body to move, to approach Hyde as casually as possible while still keeping a keen eye on his surroundings.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Hyde doesn't move, but he seemed at least marginally more present, his eyes (finally) flickering to the slow rhythm of Robert's cautious footsteps.
Robert, eventually, ends up directly in front of him. “Good evening, Hyde.”
Slowly, Hyde looked up at him. “…Good evening.” His shoulders untense a bit, but his expression doesn't change.
This… this was not the Hyde he knew.
“Everything will return to normal tomorrow,” Robert slowly repeated, just in case Hyde hadn't heard it before. He… hoped it sounded reassuring, he knew he wasn't particularly very good at that, but he was doing his best.
“I know.”
“Jekyll’s reliable. He’ll arrive to work tomorrow morning, earlier than he ever should, and everything will return to normal. Everything is going to be alright.”
At that, Hyde’s expression… shifts. It was barely noticeable, his eyes just barely widening for a second. But Robert catches it before it disappears. “…Yeah,” Hyde slowly nodded, almost speaking at him rather than to him. “…Yeah, we’ll all be alright. Jekyll’s… reliable.”
…Robert doesn't appreciate the clear distrust and distaste Hyde had towards his dear friend. It was one of the few things he didn't like about Hyde, how could anyone look at Henry and not adore him? But he chooses not to say anything. “You… you don't have a room at the Society, do you?”
Hyde took a moment to answer. “I don't, I have a place in Soho, remember?”
He did. “Well, I don't have a room here either. At least, not one meant for sleeping in.” Robert allowed his body language to become looser, more relaxed, a subtle reminder to Hyde that they were friends. “Would you be willing to share a room with me?” …It wasn't at all an odd request. They've shared a bed before, this was no different.
“I don't…” His eyes suddenly flicker, his gaze suddenly becoming much sharper. Whatever oddness from before seemed to wash away, a sense of ease quickly replacing it. This was far more familiar. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like I have anything fun to do…”
“Right.” He doesn't bring any attention to the knife game.
Thankfully, Hyde doesn't seem to notice it. “You’ve got a room in mind?”
Robert thought about it. “The… hangover room is always quiet, and the bed there is rather comfortable.” The only true downside was that it was the origin of many sex related rumors, and he was unfortunately a part of at least one of them. But considering that the lodgers were currently too distracted to notice them, “…We could sleep there tonight.”
“Sure.” Hyde slowly turned away from him. “I’ll… see you there.”
…Oh. He wasn't going to go with him, Robert was supposed to set up the room alone.
Robert tried not to express how much that action stung. He was… expecting a much more Hyde-like response, something much more… friendly. At the very least, he expected some sort of joke, the hangover room had to be enough fuel for something crude.
But… no. Instead, he got something far more polite.
…Something was obviously irking Hyde, but what?
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“…I’ll see you there,” he eventually half-heartedly parroted, not wanting to push Hyde away. “Good night, Hyde.”
Hyde scoffed. “Good night, Lanyon. Don't die a stupid death.”
“I won't.”
And… with that, they quickly parted ways, with Hyde wandering off towards Rachel's kitchen, and with Robert reluctantly retiring for the night.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Later, while he’s alone in the hangover room, staring up at the stained ceiling, paranoia begins circling around his mind like a brain-eating parasite.
Despite his odd, distant relationship to religion, Robert decides to pray.
He only has one request.
Dear God, do not make a liar out of him.