#tqasks

The sound rattled through the air of the mansion like a distant roar, rattling off of dusty, quiet halls with no one to oppose it. 

Not a spirit seemed to stir, nor had there been any that seemed to react to the anon’s presence.

The space seemed well and truly empty, only the cold creak of dimly-lit halls settling in the frigid air, a chill of quickly approaching winter making the now years-old mansion settle on its foundation, creak as if it were built of mere wood and bolts, and not malice and illusion.

The master of the house, however, was nowhere to be seen...at least not within the walls of his eerie mansion.

Standing amidst a low garden of raggedy, thin, and clearly struggling (but still alive) hedges, withering flowerbeds, and failed, gnarled saplings was a tall figure, cloaked in a long, black coat.

The hood of their coat was over their head, their broad shoulders slumped, at ease as they stood amongst the gently falling snow. A hand, ending in sharp, short black claws was reaching out towards the falling flakes, as if to catch one, only for each flake to dissipate as they neared the monster’s skin, melted as if by unnatural heat. 

Milling about in the frigid garden were several cats, leaving small, crisp pawprints in the snow, galivanting about as the figure stood, silent amongst the sea of softly falling flakes, the area directly around him untouched by the frigid snow...

Vivi looks immediately sad at this news, Lewis goes to comfort her, and Arthur casually yells “thank GOD” from the laundry room. 

Meanwhile, laying lazily on the couch, Mystery breathes a sigh of relief. 

Cue a loud, boisterous Vivi running into the room, ready to cue up a new investigation, Lewis attempting to wrest the paper from her hands to see what she’s excitedly freaking out about, and Arthur recognizing the words “Fazbear” and “pizzaplex” in her ramblings and immediately retreating into his room and locking the door, Mystery following behind him. They’re going to be playing Smash together and ignoring any attempts by Vivi to get them on-board with this, thank you VERY much. 

The anon’s voice is seemingly slow to register...or, at the very least, the ghoul is slow to respond. 

When he finally does turn towards them, his body language is one of solemn discomfort: rigid, timid, and uncomfortable with their presence.

He still has those piercing, magenta irises, but they seem less drawn back in his head, a hazy, almost eye-like structure seeming to be seated in his eyesockets, although still somewhat translucent, not doing the best at hiding the inhuman glow of his gaze.

His skin has an almost human palor to it, more natural and alive-looking than it has been in some time...although the large fangs and black claws belie his true nature. 

As Mallew stares at the anon, one of the cats stops in its frolicking to sit at his feet, peering up at him quizzically, then at the anon, and back, Mallew seeming to note this silent communication as he glances from the feline back to the anon with a glare that’s one part discomfort, one part exhaustion.

“...thank you.”

Arthur is groaning and huddling away deeper under a cozy blanket on the couch, Vivi is already slipping on her snow boots to go mess around in it, Mystery is hot on her heels, and Lewis is already digging out the hot chocolate mix for when she gets back in.

Chloe tilted her head this way and that for a moment, then responded, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose a bit, a faint embarrassed blush on her face as she answered:

“No lying? Junk food. My family has some background in culinary arts and my mom is SUPERRRRRR against anything ‘unhealthy’ or ‘flavorless,’ by which she means, like, fast food and that kind of thing. I can’t blame her, it was how she was raised, but...”

The young lady turned her head this way and that, as if worried she’d be overheard, then quickly concluded:

“I’d kill someone for a baconator any day of the week. Just saying.”

~~~

Lewis was quiet for a moment after the question was asked, gently poking a few of his fingers together in a sheepish, embarrassed expression before saying:

“I’ll admit it: alcohol. I swore off drinking years ago after an...incident at the state fair, namely one that involved an alpaca in the petting zoo area, grand theft, and a brief jail sentence. I can’t deny I miss it a bit, and I do like cooking with it from time to time, but, um...”

He trailed off, blush deepening as he requested, quietly:

is this a bigger thing than I originally thought ?????????