Looking side to side quickly, Samael twists the dagger around in his grip, so it's still pointed at the girl as he moves in front of her, raising his other hand to the door handle and holding it there for a few seconds. Nothing happens, then there's a click, and the door swings open. "In." He instructs, gesturing into the warehouse with the knife.
With a dark glare through the mask, the assassin leads the girl through the old warehouse. Dust hangs heavy in the air, and lines the surfaces and walls with a thick grime where it mixes with the damp. He leads her up some stairs to where the warehouse overseer's office would have been when the establishment was still in operation. In this room, there is no furniture that would suggest an office, or even a warehouse. There is a huddle of seven mattresses in one corner of the room, some old stools, and a few other assorted broken bits of furniture around the room. This room seems less dusty, though it is clear no one has been here in a long time.
Near the mattresses, there are a few sacks. Samael knows that within these sacks is an assortment of children's clothing in many different sizes. He remembered hiding out in this warehouse a few times in his youth, when he was still working for Mikhail. If he and some of the other boys were working in this part of the city, they'd stay here overnight rather than walk all the way back to their camp.
Sam picks up one of the few chairs that is still solid and turns it the right way up from its position lying on the floor. He puts it in the centre of the room, and points the knife from his captive to the chair, then levels it back at her, his muscles tensed, ready to spring like a coil held for too long. He already knew he could outrun this girl, and with the state her bare feet must be in by now, she'd be an idiot to try to run.
