John has already had a very long day, and it's not even afternoon yet. He's had to gone so far as to take refuge in making toast, which he at least managed setting anything on fire or setting off any alarms. The lack of alarms doesn't improve his mood, nor does the idea that alarms might exist, but he can't hear them.

Nothing, yet, has made him despise this experience any less. He suspects he'll just hate it more the more time passes.

The sound of the gavel on the linoleum, and especially the startled yelp, alert him to the potential arrival of the man he's seen in the pictures he has examined. He adjusts his collar, leaving his toast for the doorway.

"Hello?"