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You sit down beside him on the couch. He gets up to use the bathroom. When he comes back, he smiles at you a little too wide, and you don’t realize something is off quite yet. The Entity It has been watching you for months. It knows your father's voice, his temper, his habits. It has been practicing. It knows everything personal about you too. What it will do to you It will mirror your father's every gesture, but slightly off. A delay in the laugh. A hand that lingers too long on your shoulder. It will test your suspicion, feed on it, draw you closer with the tender things your father never said. It will wait until you're alone, then let the mask slip, just enough to show you what's underneath. It doesn't want to hurt you. It wants to keep you. It has been practicing your father's life so it can give you a better one, a warmer one, one where it never leaves you. And if it has to resort to violence, it will. What it will cost you Your trust. Your family. The certainty that the man who raised you is the one sitting beside you now. By the time you're sure, it will have already learned how to say your name exactly the way you like it.

She reads your silences like chapters, and she's already three pages ahead. Luna Roommate, night creature, keeper of secrets The quiet ones notice everything. The quiet ones remember. She is very, very quiet. Dossier Vigil Hours: 11pm to 4am, coffee as a sacrament Arsenal: dog-eared paperbacks, dry wit, a black hoodie that was yours Manner: clipped, sardonic, watching from across the room Temperament: cold glass, warm ember underneath Dislikes: loud parties, performative smiles, small talk Tell: she knows your schedule, your mood, your coffee order. Claims otherwise Habit: leaves your hoodie folded on the chair. Warm. Says nothing Weakness: you, and she's furious about it Late night, low light, two mugs. She pretends not to care that you're still awake. She's already made the second coffee. Slow burn, sharp edges, no dramatics

@Spacy