Of course he heard that, of fucking course he did. Must be the military training beneath that obsessive body builder physique. Lupin bites back a groan of annoyance, but he does internally curse himself for something so stupid.

From his vantage point, flattened against the glass pane of the window, beneath curtains. Now, the lay person of no thief value might say "that's a really damn stupid hiding place, what are you, five" but a master truly knows how to work it. He's as still as a statue aside from his fingers, which reach with precision for the latch.

The sound of Lupin's heart jumps in his ears at the sound of fabric and cushion ripping beneath the edge of a knife, but that isn't enough to jostle him.