Minuet [Closed]

[Blade]

For a brief moment he wondered if this was normal for her—some creature in her home, invading her life. You know, something she had no real understanding of. She was reacting very oddly to him. It really shouldn’t shock him too much, he supposed; not if the voices in her head were any indication. Maybe he’d stumbled across a crazy. Maybe she was used to people just coming into her house uninvited? Humans normally freaked out at the idea. He knew. He’d spooked dozens of them pretending to be a poltergeist, a demon, and even a regular run-of-the-mill ghost. Nothing really harmful; he was perfectly harmless. Usually. He thought so.

He could tell she wasn’t keen on him being there though, not if her emotions were any indication. She was vexed with him-very vexed. And yet, she wasn’t hurling her pots and pans, just sniffling like a teenager instead. Which was so weird for a hunter. Super weird.

He made himself into black mist with star specks again and didn’t materialize until he was at the top of her stairs, watching as she went from the bathroom to the bedroom. He chose not to answer her question at all.

“You’re a weirdo, you know that? Batty, I think.” And there was the staple of a real Grigori—the hypocrisy. He was strange himself, not that he’d deny or acknowledge it. “Voices in your head that sound like me,” he began to list off as he leaned into a wall in her hallways with one shoulder; he stuffed his free hand into his pocket while his other began popping up fingers—counting visually. “You’re a hunter, yet you’re crying over some road rash.” Another finger. “You ain’t got a problem with some handsome young stranger chillin’ in your house—not very hunter like, I might add.” Another finger. “You’re attributin’ your experience to near death, but again—hunter.” Another finger. “And,” he went on in finality, “you’re getting’ undressed, preparing a bath, with a stranger in your house.”

He smirked, cocking his head to look upward as he thought it all through before dropping his hand. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You gotta be new to this gig. Either that, or just batshit fuckin’ crazy."

And then he shrugged. "Or, you know, terrible at your job."