In all his life, never once did Sagun Mullur ever think that he'd be getting out of jail on anything even remotely related to
'good behavior.' Parole was fine and good, except now he had to worry about getting his own meals again, which wasn't exactly all it was cracked up to be. And staying in that little hovel of a house was just depressing, especially after Mahavira moved out and went on to better things. 'Better' was relative, considering he just moved to a richer part of town to try to steal a couple of decent things, then skip out and run somewhere else, but it was greener pastures than Sagun was experiencing right then.
Hands in his pockets, the young man paused and glanced up at one of the dozens of little hills he'd passed on his walk. There weren't many houses around this area, and most of them were abandoned and worthless, but
this one was really something else. It looked like there'd been a fire of some sort, and it was a shame, too, considering how pretty the house looked to have been.
Sagun glanced over his shoulder, as though someone would be following him out in this neck of the woods, then looked back at the house. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to just take a look, even.
He walked up to the wreckage, peering curiously at it. The bottom floor still seemed somewhat fine, but the upper floors were completely wrecked beyond repair. He sniffed and tugged his collar up to try to block the ashen smell, and stepped inside as quietly as he could out of instinct. Sure, no one was probably there--but force of habit kept him stealthy and quiet regardless.