And then, he had a mild heart attack. Because as he brought his flashlight up away from the desk, he saw the large, dark letters scrawled onto the whiteboard on the wall:

Are you a good patient?

It took a moment for him to remember to breathe again. There was no one here. That had to have been left earlier. It had to have been. But if it was, did that mean that someone had been expecting someone to come in here? ...No, of course it did. After all, they'd been trying to attract people here by leaving pictures and such. So of course they would assume someone would come tonight as well. But wasn't that a bad thing? Didn't that mean there could be some sort of trap or something set up somewhere? Or an ambush, perhaps?

He turned around, directing his light at the rest of the hallway as though expecting to see someone peeking at him from around the corner. But there was nothing. That same stifling nothing.

...Suddenly, he really didn't like the idea of standing around in the open like this. Even though rooms were easier targets when setting something up, it seemed a lot safer to have a small area that one could monitor easily than to stand in a hallway with lots of twists acting as blind spots.

So, barely even paying attention to what specific room it was, Klavier ducked into the room behind the front desk.

[to here]