It was long after the sun had went down when Robert had ventured out into the cemetery. He had ropes in tow, flask of whiskey tucked away, and knives in his pants and jacket pockets. Ready for cryptid hunting.
Too bad he didn’t find shit, as usual. He found some unusual prints that he took pictures of, on the ground, and some scratches on a tree. Could easily be a wild animal. Could easily be a cryptid too.
At this point he had retired from hunting, at least for now, and was knelt down by Marilyn’s grave, off to one of the edges of the cemetery. His head snapped up at the sound of a cracking stick, hand automatically going for one of his knives. He relaxed when he saw it was just a person out running.
Now, his first thought was Craig. That damn man was always out running, at all hours. Robert personally didn’t care for running at any hour, but he certainly didn’t mind Craig doing it. But no, Craig certainly didn’t have that light blonde hair.
“What the hell are you doing out running so late, Sonny?” He called out.
He barely knew the man, beyond his name and that he came from a very well-to-do family. The fact that he was gorgeous was something you’d have to be stupid not to know.