Connor . . . has weird reactions to the idea that his space is being encroached on. By which I mean people other than him live in the monkey compound and he hates it, thanks, so he's converted the space around his house into a trap hell. There's nets that will sweep you up. There's Even More Stake Pit. There's trip wires that will fucking throw arrows at you.

It looks like a goddamn Home Alone movie. Please don't try to get into his house. Alternately: do and then ask him how he did any of it. He needs a better hobby than freaking out about someone potentially getting into his house.

. . . oh, he also has torches in front of his house that are sometimes lit at night because January Fucked Him Up.