[Fugo makes a murmur of agreement-- because things are just things-- before bending back down to his work, using the scissors to cut along the lines he's drawn. Graham can't know it just by looking at him, but it's rare for Fugo to get emotionally attached to things. Why bother? Things can be lost. Things can be stolen. Things often have to be left behind when living circumstances abruptly change. So the few possessions Fugo does care about he keeps on his person, like his earrings, or hides away in places no one would think to look in his impersonally clean, mostly empty bedrooms.]
There, that should do it. You can lift your foot up now. [Once the plastic is free, Fugo picks it up and crouches by the door. With the ease of practice, he feeds the plastic over to the other side through the slim crack in the door. Once it's in far enough he pulls it up; thanks to the cut out, it doesn't get caught on the locking mechanism. It's possible to hear a soft rustling on the other side of the door while he fiddles, working by feel to catch the handle.]
no subject
There, that should do it. You can lift your foot up now. [Once the plastic is free, Fugo picks it up and crouches by the door. With the ease of practice, he feeds the plastic over to the other side through the slim crack in the door. Once it's in far enough he pulls it up; thanks to the cut out, it doesn't get caught on the locking mechanism. It's possible to hear a soft rustling on the other side of the door while he fiddles, working by feel to catch the handle.]