[center][h1][Color=DF0101]Haakon J. Elvsgaard[/color][/h1]
[img]http://www.jerryjazzmusician.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/bix1.jpg[/img][/center]

[hr][center][Color=DF0101]Location:[/color]Grand Continetal Hotel [/center][hr]

[Color=DF0101]"Takk og lov, hun gikk..."[/color]

Haakon sighed, quietly whispering those foreign words to himself when the maid decided to leave him alone. Which was good, because Haakon was getting quickly tired of the whole [i]What, isn't this my room? But I'm sure I left this very room this morning[/i]-act - luckily not as fast as the leaving maid. He let his hand fall down beside his satchel, and himself breathing out heavily. 

It had been a long day. Far too long if you asked him. 

Something made a noise. Haakon's ears picked up something, something barely audible but near. Haakon turned his head, just enough for his eyes to look at the door. The same door the burglar - or thief, mad-man, murderer, prisoner, Haakon had by now far too many names for his suspect - had entered only minutes before. It didn't sound like someone about to exit the room, but perhaps...was he listening to him? Haakon's right hand was still clutching his revolver, so if wasn't entirely defenseless, that was a relief at least. Sticking to the plan, he began to fumble with the door again. 

But deep inside him, he was hoping - perhaps bordering praying, something Haakon was not known for doing - that Jo was alright.