Harahel stood outside the doors to the museum. Twisting a scrap of metal he'd picked up from the ground in his hands, he continued to listen to the blurring of the sirens. Curiosity peaked, knowing the museum was a go to place for investigation, he decided to wait for whatever party they would throw together to come outside, when he would make his move. 

Harahel was not one for social interaction; he only made connections with others when he found it benefited his research and he preferred to keep to himself, but the museum's notoriety as a haven for artifacts made him cast aside his usual mannerisms. He began to pace as he waited, not wanting to intrude, sure they were likely doing some kind of intelligent planning within the walls of the museum, and not acting erratically and unprofessionally, yet at the same time eager to get off and find out what was going on. The alarms usually meant the appearance of more negative areas ripe for the plundering of intelligence. 

He was getting excited.