skeleton keys
Tala didn't tolerate locked doors. He yelled about them. Smashed them down. Took out all the locks and left them open always. Greased the hinges so they swung both ways, energetically, smacked into the walls, smacked into your face…
Tala had this thing about going where he wanted, when he wanted. This thing about being locked in. And locked out.
Tala had this thing about privacy, as in, he didn't give any. He had a habit of rummaging through people's shit if he thought they were withholding.
Tala had this thing about information, as in, he needed all of it. And he felt entitled to it. And he couldn't handle secrets because they made him scared for his life late at night. And he'd sit up in bed, on top of the sheets always, fully dressed because that was how he slept, in case of emergency, and he'd work himself into a blind rage which really didn't take long.
And next time you walked through a door he'd be on the other side, and he'd smash it into your face, and he'd ask what the fuck you were holding back. What the fuck you were trying to do. Kill him?