Damien Moreau

Eliot sighs and leans against the wall next to the door. There's no one here to see it and he can wipe the security tapes himself later, he doesn't have to pretend that he's not fucking exhausted for at least a little while. "You want me t'pick the lock an' do some shoving from this side?" he asks, none of the weariness coming through in his voice. The other alternative is getting someone in to cut through the dam thing, which would take a good bit of time: he chose this room because it has no other exits, no windows (a rarity in the sprawling estate), and the door's solid oak, the hinges inside the room so it can't even be easily removed. He'll make his report after he hears the answer one way or the other.