"Hah," he laughs weakly. Saoirse's probably right — though, Christ, not about the dead bodies — and honestly, he hopes Teddy doesn't actually exist. Even if 'Teddy' was just a... what, an ordinary shut-in of some kind? Even then, Martin doesn't think he could handle the surprise.

And the noise didn't quite sound like footsteps. It was probably squirrels. It was surely squirrels. And no dead bodies.

All right, he ought to stop being such a bloody coward. He came here to make sure Saoirse would be all right. Mrs Finch is obviously harmless, but neither of them are really qualified to handle squirrels, and if they're going to check on things, it should be him, not the admittedly pluckier teenager.

"Well," he sighs. "I suppose we should at least have a look."

Getting the attic open is a bit awkward, and when it finally unfolds into a creaky set of stairs, Martin feels even less eager about going up there. Can those stairs even hold his weight? He hesitates, feeling like a complete arse about it.