It's only just nearing evening now. There are clouds, but there is also sun, and despite the hour Fish has been hanging around outside for a few minutes now. Not much is subtle about his presence, from the way he just sort of occupies the approaching laneway, awkwardly, to his black hoodie and black sunglasses and his long-sleeved layers. One of his boots toes the other like it's scratching an itch. Hands jammed into his armpits.

All right. Okay. He can do this. It's horrifying, but he can do this.

His approach is silent, and his hand pauses over the latch for a long time, shaking faintly, before he opens the door to look in. He feels tiny. Like Jack peeking in on the giant's castle or something.