Plague Rat

House of Wax in the big ‘25? more likely than you think

In my headcanon timelines, all of the Sinclairs get out of Ambrose for a time vis the state foster system. The twins age out, Bo starts working and Vincent goes to the University of New Orleans for a BA in fine arts. 

You run into your first British lit lecture late. There are two spots open, so you decide to forgo the creaking rolley chair and slide in next to some guy you don’t know. You whisper a “hi” as you pull your books out, and he inclines his head towards you in awknowledgement. It’s a loooong lecture, and when your mind begins to wander you start stealing glances at the guy next to you. He’s tall and slim, with shiny dark hair brushing his shoulders. The full face mask catches you off-guard for a moment, but you’ve seen people make stranger fashion statements. Besides, he does seems kind of goth. When the class ends and you give him a quick “see you on Thursday” he turns and looks at you with one piercing blue eye. Good god, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a natural eye that blue. It’s like a clear April sky, in such stark contrast with the rest of him. The interaction only last a few seconds, but you feel like you were pinned down for hours. 

You arrive at the next class early and slide into the same seat from before. They’re not assigned of course, but humans are creatures of habbit. Sure enough, mystery man slides in next to you while the professor is still organizing her lecture notes. “Hi.” you whisper again, but this time followed by an introduction. He turns to face you fully, and you’re struck again by that eye. “Vincent. It’s nice to meet you.” Oh god. You panic for a moment as you rack your brain for what you know of sign language, skills that were less than conversational to begin with, covered in several years of rust. You can recall introductions, at least. He must read the panic on your face, or maybe it’s the way you recite his name back to make sure you got it right-”Vincent. That’s pretty.”-because he rips a piece of paper from his notebook and clicks his pen on. Just as the professor starts talking, he slides you a note: ‘Thanks. I got it for my birthday.’ Oh, you realize. So this guy is a dork. 

You swing by the library on your way back to your shitty little campus apartment and check out two books on ASL. You want to know what other goofy dad jokes this guy has up his sleeve. 

A lot, it turns out. You two begin passing notes during class like you’re 13 again, which leads to hanging around after class to chat. At first it’s just about the readings, peppered with snarky comments and silly puns, but soon you’re talking about everything other than the assignments. He’s funny, you realize, silly and sarcastic-bordering on mean-all at once. You learn that he’s a Fine Arts major, a sculptor, and insanely passionate about his art. He doesn’t talk about his family or childhood a lot, so you talk about yours. The details you do glean are vague: he’s from a very small town (like most people in the South), his mother was a sculptor too, he grew up with siblings, and he spent some time in the foster system. You don’t pry. After all, why bother violating boundaries when there’s so much other stuff to talk about? Art and music and politics and lightheartedly dunking on your peers.Sometimes (often) you have to ask him to slow down or repeat himself or write things out (the books you’re working through don’t cover fancy art terms, especially when you don’t understand what the word means in the first place), but the conversation flows well. It feels natural. You invite him over when to watch Doctor Who reruns, he invites you over to listen to underground gothic heartbreak music. Maybe you develop a tiny bit of a crush on him, it’s whatever. 

You find him at the graduation ceremony, just for a moment. He’s got family stuff to do and you understand, your own mother is urging everyone to get to lunch as soon as possible. You give him a loose hug (something you two didn’t begin doing until months into the friendship. He’s reticent with affection, but this feels like an appropriate moment.) and the mailing address of your parents house. You’re still working on lining up an apartment for youself, and you know that if someone sends mail for you after you’re gone, your parents will just give them your new address.

What if reader remembers he's from Ambrose and goes to track him down one day

Lester and Bo, having never met, or even been told about them- have no idea

So when they get lured back to the house, and Vincent goes to make his move (thinking they're just another random tourist) he's SHOCKED and torn....

He has to do his best to cover the truth and send them out of Ambrose forever. But reader doesn't understand what's happening and wants to keep coming to visit or see Vincent outside of Ambrose to catch up