Desmond knew how to do this. He'd run the course so many times. He'd learned to keep his steps light, to match his shadow to the ones on his wall. He hadn't made a single noise on the lead up to now, in the closed off room. One man sitting on a chair, his back to the wall. He knew he hadn't been seen, that he had been quiet enough to be unnoticed. 

But the man on the chair had seen him.