Sparkle hardly noticed the soft whining sound that he made at that question, hardly realized that he was hiding his hands behind his back, bunching up a little at the shoulder, his eyes turning down toward the ground and his breath the only real movement that he dared to make until he committed to taking Hannibal up on his offer, nodding a little, and then carefully making his way for the door.

His nose wrinkled almost immediately at the familiar smells; cigarette smoke, empty beer bottles, piss. Probably a dead rat or something decompozing behind the sofa, though it could just as easily be leftovers that never got put away, something going off in the kitchen. Everything going off in the kitchen. It was not doing wonders for how badly he wanted to puke just then.