He felt it as a niggling in his consciousness, a tripwire strung too tight, and while he generally didn't pay any attention to the house's various calls to action -- there were others far more suited to the task, with more of a taste for terror -- this time his curiosity got the better of him.
Chad stood at the top of the staircase, looked down to take stock of the intruder. He didn't seem like much, wet and miserable and exhausted, but then odd things happened in this house. It wouldn't be the first time in its long and sordid history that someone had come to the door disguised as vulnerable and proved to be otherwise.
Not that he had anything to worry about. And Patrick was wherever he was when he wasn't here, probably canoodling with some cheap twink spirit trapped here with them that he'd yet to meet.
He descended the staircase to greet the latest unfortunate soul, expression somewhere between curious and accusatory, with a tone to match.
"Do you normally walk right into people's homes without knocking first?"
At the sound of the voice Anders froze where he was, twisting around mid-hall to peer through the dim towards Chad. For a few moments he was gracelessly shocked. The house was dark and quiet, but beyond that it had simply felt so... empty. His instincts were so often right about that kind of thing that he had never even bothered to second guess his first impression.
"... My sincerest apologies," he croaked, working through his surprise and embarrassment. He took a small step back towards the door, but no part of him wanted to go back out into that mess. He was still cold enough to favor an angry stranger to icy rain.
"I... had thought the house abandoned," he confessed with the barest of sheepish smiles, reaching up to sheepishly touch the back of his neck (if only for something to do with his hand). "I wish I could offer a more exciting reason-- I only wanted to get out of that blasted rain."
blah sorry for the delay; not enough time in the AM apparentlyeternalflawsDecember 2 2011, 02:29:11 UTC
"It is," came the disinterested assurance as Chad made his way to the ground floor, eyeing the other suspiciously. "Or more accurately it's between owners. But please, come inside, make yourself at home. Nobody else is." There was a slight bitterness behind the words, although really who could blame him? He'd been murdered in this very house, just out of reach of the man he'd been fairly sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and even before then it hadn't really been much of a home, more like a space occupied by two people who barely seemed to like each other most days.
So yes, if he was bitter, he was entirely justified.
He crossed his arms, outwardly welcoming but inwardly seething. It was all too common an occurrence these days, unfortunately...and it had nothing to do with the strange man dripping on his floors. He took a breath, and attempted a sincere smile. "...Sorry, it's just been one of those days. How about we start over. Hi, I'm Chad. Please, come in. ...And if you're going to drip, I'd suggest that rug over there; I really don't want to have to pay for redoing the floors after everything else we've spent already."
He felt it as a niggling in his consciousness, a tripwire strung too tight, and while he generally didn't pay any attention to the house's various calls to action -- there were others far more suited to the task, with more of a taste for terror -- this time his curiosity got the better of him.
Chad stood at the top of the staircase, looked down to take stock of the intruder. He didn't seem like much, wet and miserable and exhausted, but then odd things happened in this house. It wouldn't be the first time in its long and sordid history that someone had come to the door disguised as vulnerable and proved to be otherwise.
Not that he had anything to worry about. And Patrick was wherever he was when he wasn't here, probably canoodling with some cheap twink spirit trapped here with them that he'd yet to meet.
He descended the staircase to greet the latest unfortunate soul, expression somewhere between curious and accusatory, with a tone to match.
"Do you normally walk right into people's homes without knocking first?"
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"... My sincerest apologies," he croaked, working through his surprise and embarrassment. He took a small step back towards the door, but no part of him wanted to go back out into that mess. He was still cold enough to favor an angry stranger to icy rain.
"I... had thought the house abandoned," he confessed with the barest of sheepish smiles, reaching up to sheepishly touch the back of his neck (if only for something to do with his hand). "I wish I could offer a more exciting reason-- I only wanted to get out of that blasted rain."
Reply
So yes, if he was bitter, he was entirely justified.
He crossed his arms, outwardly welcoming but inwardly seething. It was all too common an occurrence these days, unfortunately...and it had nothing to do with the strange man dripping on his floors. He took a breath, and attempted a sincere smile. "...Sorry, it's just been one of those days. How about we start over. Hi, I'm Chad. Please, come in. ...And if you're going to drip, I'd suggest that rug over there; I really don't want to have to pay for redoing the floors after everything else we've spent already."
Reply
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