"Juuuuust wanted to make sure this wasn't a horrible deathtrap," Spinister chirps, popping his head out from around the door frame. "As long as we don't drop Monstercon on this place though, I think we'll be fine!"

He sets his field kit down on top of the night stand and kicks over an old, empty crate from one of the corners.

"Who do you think this place belonged to?" he wonders, plonking himself down onto the crate and sorting through his tools.