AH , WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!? she flinched at the sound ;; KNOCK KNOCK. ( I know you fuckin’ lyin’ ) Alice turned her head towards the sound and stood up, her feet threading lightly on the fine wood as she approached the wall. Cautiously, she pressed at ear to the thin layer and could faintly hear breathing on the other side – her breath hitched and she took a step back. She would HUMOR the ( manchild ) with a repeated knock but this time with a different answer than he expected, “ Orange,” she starts a knock knock joke.
Hoping he would answer back, Alice carefully moved from the living room into the parlor. there is a pool table in the center and she eyes the pool stick and she’s quickening her pace to reach it. She gives a pretend swing before slapping the wood against her hand and sliding her hand upward where fingertips touched the tip, “ Okay, so, we want to play games, ,” a mere mutter as she took a deep breath and let out a huff.
She didn’t stick too close to the walls but enough for her to knock back to Brahms. Alice leaned over again to take a look at the door , not noticing the out of place mirror hanging on the wall.
behind his mask, brahms’ lips press together tight -- unamused by her little jokes. part of him wants to silence her, but the other ( much stronger ) childish side of him wishes for her to go on. ❝ . . . orange, who ? ❞ he asks, stopping once he reached the backside of the mirror. his hiding spaces had multiple exits, each hidden in their respectful rooms -- but he still lingered. it wasn’t very often that he allowed anyone to see him. signal && signs of his existence were normal, but seeing him in person was something that he didn’t allow -- not even for his own parents.
knocking calloused knuckles against the mirror, the sound reverberated in the room with ease. ❝ o r a n g e, who ? ❞ -- the masked man asks once again, not-so patiently awaiting his reply.
&& while in body, he was very much a man -- in heart, he still held a love for anything childish. silly games were his specialty. but he could do things that made stealing shoes child’s play. with trembling fingers, brahms reaches from the corners of the mirror, creating the illusion that he would remove it. that’s where he stopped -- less eager to show himself than he was to hear a joke.
