something's got to break you down

Spock finds Flavia's apartment easily enough, but stands outside her door, uncharacteristically, titivating with the sleeves of his sweater for a few lengthy, thoughtful pauses before he reaches out to rap on the door with his knuckles three times crisply.

It isn't that he's uncertain about what he plans to do. He's very certain of that. Aware that his liberal relationship with the use of his abilities is a minority among his people, especially now in Darrow, he has difficulty not viewing it to some degree as an ethical requirement to use them. Wisely. But to give a young girl inspiration is certainly wise.

He doesn't want to hear otherwise.

He isn't certain she lives alone, and lifts his voice, leaning closer to the door. "Flavia de Luce? This is Spock."