V doesn't have to work very hard to keep Snape from being seen. He moves through the shadows with accustomed ease, and seems perfectly comfortable in low lighting.
He peers around with interest, memorizing his location, identifying exits, and generally getting the taste of the place down. A smooth stick of black wood never leaves his hand.
The occupant of the cell takes a few moments to reply, being curled in a far corner of the tiny room. Her voice is rough and soft, barely carrying through the door.
At least she was alive. And conscious. "I've been ... indisposed," he told her, hoping that she wouldn't start snapping at him again. "I did not intend to leave you untended."
Snape leans against the wall and waits. It does not sound, thus far, like a discussion between enemies, though the thick door with its little window tells him otherwise.
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He peers around with interest, memorizing his location, identifying exits, and generally getting the taste of the place down. A smooth stick of black wood never leaves his hand.
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"V?"
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