He doesn't even look over when she slips away from him. He doesn't need to know where she went or how she was getting inside. That isn't the part that matters. All that matters is that she does exactly what he needs, she opens the door.

So he stands there by the door, fingers lightly curled against the crow head of his cane and waits. Even as the door swings open, he's already moving to step inside as if he had calculated the exact moment she would open it.

"They trust in their tiny locks and assume that since they don't know the means in and out of places that no one else does either," he says in a low voice, pitched just for her ears. "Come on. It's in the back, in the office."

The sound of the club can be heard, a distant din of chimes and bells that holds the attention of most in the building and leaves them free to roam.

"I'll only be a minute. Don't let anyone bother me."

Because he trusts her to have his back, no matter what.