Rule two came fast. No door shall remain closed. 

Wick was only a pound of fluff, but he treated every shut door like a personal insult. Bathroom? He’d paw at it until someone cracked it open. Bedroom? He’d wedge himself inside the moment the knob turned. Closet? Don’t even think about it. Privacy became a forgotten luxury. If Wick wasn’t allowed in, he’d sit outside and sing the song of his people until the guilty party relented.