@archagentis cont. from here
You didn’t know why you were in a closet with a guy you pissed off months ago. Last time you were in a closet with someone it was where you lived and you nearly died, but at least that was your closet. Hell, you weren’t even entirely sure what he was. Or where you were. Where are you, exactly?
You’re drumming your fingers on the sides of the chair, arms stiff, and ignoring the bowl of black licorice. You don’t even like black licorice. Not that you’re going to take food from a stranger. Was it even possible to tell if black licorice was poisoned? Nasty enough to drown out the taste.
“I’ll pass. Maybe on the talking too.” You aren’t sure if it’s worse or better to have him staring at you in silence with that freaky smile. What sharp teeth he has. The better to rip your throat out with, probably.












