Don't play with your food.

She could feel him tense beside her as she mentioned the strangeness in her life, but thought little of it. Most people weren’t used to weirdness. She wasn’t even sure if she was, she just didn’t care enough to figure it out. She laughed a little at his vampire comment before waxing a little nostalgic. “You know, I really have no idea. Kind of like you, he ended up here with no idea how he’d gotten here. Then he landed himself a modeling contract and somehow decided he was in love with an asshat like me. Then one day, just… poof! He was gone. I assume he ended up back home.” She shrugged. “It was awhile ago.” 

The receptionist found himself relaxing the more he heard Devin speak, especially since nothing decided to give them a fright in the process. As he listened to her small anecdote, Silas grinned lightly and returned, “I guess he couldn’t have been a vampire. He wouldn’t have shown up on the camera, and that wouldn’t have been a very good modelling career.” A chuckle escaped Silas’s mouth, before his tone turned somewhat serious. “I’m sorry to hear that – maybe you’ll cross paths one day, you never know.” There was one thing Silas couldn’t have: a boyfriend, because it was too dangerous getting attached to anyone when The Legend could decide that they were her next victim. He was stuck in Dire Grove and he wasn’t allowed to leave until he died – which was what he was most confused about after ending up in Chicago. Was there a loophole that he didn't know about? Nevertheless, she would find a way to bring him back.

She chuckled. “Nah. I doubt it. I mean, it’s just an old house. Sure, it’s creepy, but nothing Amityville like has happened yet and I’ve been there for over a month.” She held up the paint cans. “It’s just sad and needs cheering up.” 

“Psh.” She scoffed a little. “I’m less the ‘comes crying to men’ type and more the ‘Google it’ type. I’ll stock up on salt and holy water before going back home. Learn some Latin on the bus.” She laughed. 

Finch shook is head, his curly hair flopping with the movement, and waved a hand at her. “No, no, my fault. This happens, like, daily. It’s fine,” he smiled a little, weakly around the corner of his mouth.

“Alright.” Devin shrugged a little. “Sorry about your glasses though.” She gave a soft smile and turned back to the paint cans, honestly a little embarrassed about the ordeal. She grabbed several cans of the turquoise she’d been eyeing for her bedroom, decided she’d come back for more later. 

He flexed his fingers anxiously, tucking them away into his jeans before he broke a knuckle or something. “Turquoise, huh?” he mumbled, tilting his head as he rocked on his thrift-store converse. 

“Umm, yeah I’m painting this old house I got from my grandma when she died.” Devin turned back to him as she explained. “It’s kinda creepy. I was hoping some color might help.” 

She chuckled. “Nah. I doubt it. I mean, it’s just an old house. Sure, it’s creepy, but nothing Amityville like has happened yet and I’ve been there for over a month.” She held up the paint cans. “It’s just sad and needs cheering up.” 

“Psh.” She scoffed a little. “I’m less the ‘comes crying to men’ type and more the ‘Google it’ type. I’ll stock up on salt and holy water before going back home. Learn some Latin on the bus.” She laughed. 

Devin chuckled softly. “I’m just a painter, but I dated a guy from the 17th century once before he disappeared. Plus, I’m eighty-seven percent sure my house is haunted. I seem to be a magnet for strange.” She shrugged. “I just kind of go with it.” She watched in amused silence as he typed away, figuring that if the town he was from was small enough to not be on the internet that it was probably small enough to not even have internet. It would explain his fascination. When he was finished, she took the laptop back, chuckling at his comment. “Well…” She thought for a moment, weighing her options. “Look, I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation for awhile anyways. And I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough airmiles racked up for two tickets.”

“Th-that’s hilarious.” Silas responded, though he couldn’t quite stop himself from scanning his surroundings, his body tensing up at the thought of facing something similar to The Legend back home; she didn’t follow him, did she? It was something he hadn’t thought about and he immediately felt a nausea creep up his throat, which he quickly swallowed back down and pressed his back further against the cushions on the couch behind him. “Was he a vampire?” The receptionist jokingly asked, releasing a heartfelt chuckle that was a mixture between perplexion and genuine curiosity. She was most likely pulling his leg, and Silas was probably a fool, but Dire Grove made him believe in things he hadn’t before. 

Finch shook is head, his curly hair flopping with the movement, and waved a hand at her. “No, no, my fault. This happens, like, daily. It’s fine,” he smiled a little, weakly around the corner of his mouth.

“Alright.” Devin shrugged a little. “Sorry about your glasses though.” She gave a soft smile and turned back to the paint cans, honestly a little embarrassed about the ordeal. She grabbed several cans of the turquoise she’d been eyeing for her bedroom, decided she’d come back for more later. 

He flexed his fingers anxiously, tucking them away into his jeans before he broke a knuckle or something. “Turquoise, huh?” he mumbled, tilting his head as he rocked on his thrift-store converse. 

“Umm, yeah I’m painting this old house I got from my grandma when she died.” Devin turned back to him as she explained. “It’s kinda creepy. I was hoping some color might help.” 

She chuckled. “Nah. I doubt it. I mean, it’s just an old house. Sure, it’s creepy, but nothing Amityville like has happened yet and I’ve been there for over a month.” She held up the paint cans. “It’s just sad and needs cheering up.” 

Finch shook is head, his curly hair flopping with the movement, and waved a hand at her. “No, no, my fault. This happens, like, daily. It’s fine,” he smiled a little, weakly around the corner of his mouth.

“Alright.” Devin shrugged a little. “Sorry about your glasses though.” She gave a soft smile and turned back to the paint cans, honestly a little embarrassed about the ordeal. She grabbed several cans of the turquoise she’d been eyeing for her bedroom, decided she’d come back for more later. 

He flexed his fingers anxiously, tucking them away into his jeans before he broke a knuckle or something. “Turquoise, huh?” he mumbled, tilting his head as he rocked on his thrift-store converse. 

“Umm, yeah I’m painting this old house I got from my grandma when she died.” Devin turned back to him as she explained. “It’s kinda creepy. I was hoping some color might help.” 

All he could think of was his prescription. The perfect orange plastic bottle, white cap, fat white pills inside. Finch had forgotten to pick them up yesterday when he’d gotten a little too wasted with his friend Bradley Jones, subsequently passing out on the couch. But now he was fading fast and his head felt blurry. He was hurriedly jogging through aisles, cutting through the paint section to get to the pharmacy on the opposite side. His arms were itching. He looked at his shoes for a moment too long and ran into a warm body. 

“What?” he chirped, his green eyes darting down at his glasses in her hand and back up to the girl’s concerned face. “Oh, uh, thanks,” he murmured, taking them and placing them on his nose.

“You sure?” She was unconvinced. His distracted manner didn’t help with that. “Oh shit! Your glasses!” She noticed the cracked lens as he put them back on. “I’m sorry. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.” 

Finch shook is head, his curly hair flopping with the movement, and waved a hand at her. “No, no, my fault. This happens, like, daily. It’s fine,” he smiled a little, weakly around the corner of his mouth.

“Alright.” Devin shrugged a little. “Sorry about your glasses though.” She gave a soft smile and turned back to the paint cans, honestly a little embarrassed about the ordeal. She grabbed several cans of the turquoise she’d been eyeing for her bedroom, decided she’d come back for more later. 

She shrugged. “It’s no problem. I kind of live by the old ‘Do unto others’ thing.” Devin had been in more than her fair share of trouble and knew all to well what a kind word or helping hand could do for someone. “So, you’re getting ready for bed and next thing you know you’re halfway around the world.” She nodded slowly. “It’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” She passed her laptop to him. “Yeah, just type in there,” She pointed to the search bar, “Then press enter. If you know the nearest big city we may be able to pull that up. Shouldn’t be too hard to rent a car from there or something” She suggested.

The receptionist smiled to himself as he listened to Devin speak; she seemed real nice, and it was great to finally hold a conversation with somebody young, rather than face the scowls of the old folk in Dire Grove when he attempted to chat. They weren’t so sociable, despite having lived there for all his life, so he felt incredibly apologetic to visitors that found themselves lost in the town and hadn’t discovered the Bed and Breakfast yet. The old folk weren’t as friendly when it came to asking for directions, which was Silas’s number one reason for showering his guests with hospitality and giving them a kind face to speak to. Nodding in confirmation, the male briefly looked up at the woman with raised eyebrows at her comment, before releasing a hesitant chuckle, “I’m scared to ask what you do if that wasn’t the strangest thing you’ve come across, miss.”

Devin chuckled softly. “I’m just a painter, but I dated a guy from the 17th century once before he disappeared. Plus, I’m eighty-seven percent sure my house is haunted. I seem to be a magnet for strange.” She shrugged. “I just kind of go with it.” She watched in amused silence as he typed away, figuring that if the town he was from was small enough to not be on the internet that it was probably small enough to not even have internet. It would explain his fascination. When he was finished, she took the laptop back, chuckling at his comment. “Well...” She thought for a moment, weighing her options. “Look, I’ve been thinking about taking a vacation for awhile anyways. And I’m pretty sure I’ve got enough airmiles racked up for two tickets.”

All he could think of was his prescription. The perfect orange plastic bottle, white cap, fat white pills inside. Finch had forgotten to pick them up yesterday when he’d gotten a little too wasted with his friend Bradley Jones, subsequently passing out on the couch. But now he was fading fast and his head felt blurry. He was hurriedly jogging through aisles, cutting through the paint section to get to the pharmacy on the opposite side. His arms were itching. He looked at his shoes for a moment too long and ran into a warm body. 

“What?” he chirped, his green eyes darting down at his glasses in her hand and back up to the girl’s concerned face. “Oh, uh, thanks,” he murmured, taking them and placing them on his nose.

“You sure?” She was unconvinced. His distracted manner didn’t help with that. “Oh shit! Your glasses!” She noticed the cracked lens as he put them back on. “I’m sorry. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.” 

All he could think of was his prescription. The perfect orange plastic bottle, white cap, fat white pills inside. Finch had forgotten to pick them up yesterday when he’d gotten a little too wasted with his friend Bradley Jones, subsequently passing out on the couch. But now he was fading fast and his head felt blurry. He was hurriedly jogging through aisles, cutting through the paint section to get to the pharmacy on the opposite side. His arms were itching. He looked at his shoes for a moment too long and ran into a warm body. 

I think Greg's reaction to steven's story about sums up the fandom during steven bomb. Poor guy, i felt bad when he was having his little heart attack!