Yeah, because there's anything to try, here. Who do you think I am, John Pershing?

[he holds his hands up, shifting back and towards the stairs. stopping momentarily by a small table with some misc decor on it, floor boards creaking under the weight of the boots he's wearing. you can't break into houses if you ain't cute, after all!]

I mean, seriously, you couldn't pay me to rob this place. [he picks up some kitsch off the table, turning it over in his hand for a moment, then puts it back down far to the left of where he took it.] Is that a Robert Fritz vase? Ugh.