The snow crunched as a tall dark-haired boy walked up to the door of the flat, "Good ol' 206." He mumbled, referring to the numbers on the door, frosty as they were. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, his breath puffed up in cold night air, "Oh c'mon! Why've I got so many keys?" Upon finding the right key, he quickly jammed it into the door. "Jethro Cane?!" A man's voice called. The boy's head lifted "Ye...yes?" "Sorry to startle you, I've got a package here for a Mr. Jethro Cane, quite urgent from what I understand." As he walked closer his uniform became visible, a postman's uniform. "Well, that's me... I'm Jethro." The boy said.