[There's a sound of tiles flipping and tapping - almost like an answer. It's welcoming, in a way. And the tiles under Martin's feet shift gently to urge him inside.
Come. Come inside, hurry.
The open area is darker, clouds overhead blocking out the bright sun. And the doors a dark rich wood. The tile tapping leads up the stairs, a rhythmic pattern leading Martin starting where he is, going up, then starting back again where Martin stands until he follows.]
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Come. Come inside, hurry.
The open area is darker, clouds overhead blocking out the bright sun. And the doors a dark rich wood. The tile tapping leads up the stairs, a rhythmic pattern leading Martin starting where he is, going up, then starting back again where Martin stands until he follows.]