*THE HOST.

that being said, grow up.  i think everyone needs to take some time to realize that mark is making you a part of this story he is creating and you should be grateful.  he’s never done anything to purposely hurt any of you and he’d never do anything to purposely hurt any of you and if you are taking offense to this then . . . i don’t know what to tell you because that’s just . . . it’s wrong and it’s sad.

Once he begins to sway, she takes a step back, obviously weary of the man before her. Again, she has NO CLUE what lies beneath that mask that he wears around his eyes, but something - that tiny voice in the back of her mind - keeps whispering to not trust him. He mentioned he was more of a performer, so perhaps he is merely taking the role of someone who is blind. Val stares for a long moment after he finishes, trying to think of what she can say.

When the time is right.

She’s heard that from her aunt and uncle so many times, especially from when she was a girl and asked about the locked rooms hidden within the manor, “And what if that time is NOW?”

          “ I CAN TELL YOU THIS . . . ”   a hand comes swaying from behind his back , fingers curled all but one ; index waves in the air for a moment ,   “ the time is not now.  and when the time does arrive    -    if it ever does , mind you    -    the only one that will know is the one who holds the key.  that being said---- ”

A grimace and SNEER are evident on the young woman’s face as the male speaks, claiming to not be a liar, nor a PATHOLOGICAL one – however, as a writer, she feels as if he could possibly be one. “Pathological liars enjoy to manipulate and consistently LIE for no personal gain, sir. Don’t performers also do the same, or have I been misguided?” She’s no psychologist, but months in an old manor, descended from a DISTRICT ATTORNEY, and being able to hide in the locked library with books on different subjects, has her knowing quite a lot. However, some books may have been outdated by now, so who truly knows.

Icy blues stare, watching the other’s movement; his eyes are covered, so there’s no true way to know whether or not he’s lying. “I know nothing but what I’ve heard, so please, enlighten me.” / @ourhost [ x ]

          INTEREST - especially and specifically in the way that she talks.  he’s amused , our dear HOST , and he finds it quite the drag that she still insists on proclaiming him a LIAR.  “ then what you’ve heard will be the only thing you’ll need to know, ” a quiet sway to his step , a maneuvering that makes it seem as if the BLIND can maybe perhaps . . . still SEE.

          FLATTERY ; even with the last part oh-so graciously spewing into his ears like a melody.  PATHOLOGICAL LIAR.  why , he does say so himself that not only is he one of the best but perhaps he’s been lying his way through whatever endeavors he’s been pursuing for the past few years or so.  maybe that’s even why those two peepers ( once pleasantly placed behind that dirty blindfold ) are sadly missing from their once-residence and in the hands of something else entirely ( we shan’t mention names here - to avoid a path to trouble ).

          “ Wil. ”  Voice catches his attention before anything else, frame turning to face the doorway in which his fine fellow of a friend has entered through.  What lies upon the table are newspaper clippings ; Polaroid photographs with names scratched and scribbled here and there along both the outer whites of the film & upon the pictures themselves.  The Host takes to cleaning up a bit suddenly - shuffling to brush all the remnants into a duffel bag that previously sat beside the desk.  It’s quite obvious he doesn’t want him to see.

“It's 4 in the morning, is everything ok?”

“Some days I think I'm dying, but I'm really only trying to get through.”

“I think the house is spinning.”

“So, we'll try again and eventually we'll get it right.”

“Not a very exact science, is it?”

“I'm trying to tell you I love you.”

“I can be perfect for you.”

“I miss the pain.”

“Nothing's real.”

“I didn't know you had a brother.”

“He's been dead 16 years.”

“This is fucked.”

“I know you're hurting. I am, too.”

“Can you tell me what it is you're afraid of?”

“Can I touch you?”

“Are you wanting all that she can't give?”

“I am the one who won't walk away.”

“I wish I could fly, I'd fly far away from here.”

“I love you as much as I can.”

“I'm your worst fear, you'll find it in me.”

“I need you to need me.”

“It's not going to get better, is it?”

“Are you nervous?”

“What's your story?”

“Did you see my parents out there?”

“How could she leave me on my own?”

“Why didn't you take me with you?”

“You're kidding, right? That's bullshit.”

“What makes you think I'd lose my mind for you?”

“Tell me why I wait through the night.”

“I can't get through this alone.”

“Am I feeling what I think I'm feeling?”

“I'm good as gone.”

“You don't remember any of this?”

“I thought you might call.”

“Don't say that we're over.”

“I couldn't give a flying fuck what's normal.”

“Your life has kind of sucked, I think.”

“Won't anything be better than before?”

“Your son is gone forever though.”

“There's something missing.”

“Let me know you again.”

“Why do I get denied?”

“Where'd you get that?”

“How could I ever forget?”

Why would you want to remember the things that hurt you?”

“Please, tell me his name.”

“Why stay?”

“Something next to normal would be okay.”

“You look like a star.”

“Can you leave it behind?”

“I might end up crazy.”

“So anyway I'm leaving.”

“It's time for me to go.”

“I am the one who saved you.”

“I know you know who I am.”

“We need some light.”