No one ever does. Even when she's standing right in front of people who saw her during the day, when she's standing in front of men who think they know all that she is and can be. They have to be shown.

The second candle goes, and the room instantly inky black. A space she knows by its paces already, because she crosses it, and heads for the door. Letting dim light stream in, before she's nodding and leading him actually back the way he probably came form.

She's incredibly quiet. She's done this before. Knows where to stop, to look around. To hold up a hand, pausing for a passing person around the corner, walking down a hall. Seeming not even to breathe as she listens to foot steps slowly, boredly stomping away from them.