Neal looks up at the building, then at Malcolm, his instincts taut for no reason he can discern yet. "Stay close," he murmurs.

Inside it's quiet. Mostly quiet. Quiet enough for muffled voices from upstairs to carry. Not the words, but the tones are clear enough. One of them, Neal can identify as James, sharp and accusatory. The other voice is unfamiliar. Seemingly masculine. There's a smile in their tone. Smugness.

Neal tenses, hurrying for the stairs but keeping as quiet as possible at the same time.