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You hold yourself, still as stock in the darkness, and you strain your ears to the point that you feel the muscles behind them clenching and flexing, listening to the pair of Guards making their clanking, thudding retreat out of the Clerking House. There is a half-hope quickening in your breast that they may yet resume their conversation - but with each footfall duller and more distant than the last, it is only a matter of moments before you must come to account. Even if they were to begin speaking again, you would be hard pressed to hear it, and Condemned if you had to make sense of any of it. Had you the hands free to do so, you would be rubbing your temples right now. You make to plant your forehead against the wall - but you stop yourself as soon as you remember that your new-to-you Inquiring Eyes are on your forehead. Relieved that you caught yourself before you could cause them any harm - and frustrated that you very nearly did - you continue to hold yourself ramrod, straining your ears to the point that it feels as if you were somehow flexing your eardrums. Only once a footfall fades away into the ether and no new one is there to take its place do you do finally allow yourself a deep breath and some slack - slumping deeply, but keeping your forehead with its precious cargo well clear from the wall.
However, as you begin to muddle your way through what you heard, trying to make sense of a few senseless cuttings of conversation, you happen to hear a new set of noises from above. Footfalls, you would stake yourself on it. And as they don't clank and thud, you cannot imagine that the party responsible is armored or encumbered with weapons. This must be the bonded servant that the Guards locked in. Apparently, they didn't do a particularly good job of it. Closer and closer the sounds get - then they abruptly stop. Without even realizing it, you have brought your Wand of Head-Knocking up, placing it between you and the door. You make no move to level it, but you cannot bring yourself to lower it either. The darkness smothers as it ensconces, making this unexpected silence feel all the more absolute. But before you can properly start to panic, the footfalls resume - louder than before, as they are now coming down the stairs. Hoping that all there was to the pause was the bonded servant seeking surety that the Guards had left the house, you bite your lip and wait. Surely, he has no need for anything in the basement?
You strain your ears to hear him as he finishes the flight. He isn't saying anything, of course - he has no cause to, as he is alone. That you are sure of; the footfalls are singular and the 'testimony' of the Guards speak of just a 'him' to be locked in. But more than his feet are making noise though, and it takes you more than a moment to work out what it is. Laughter. He is laughing softly to himself. You keep tight, starting to tremble from the exertion of not moving, and from fear of discovery.