𓍯 ִֶָPIERROT. ⚚༝༚༝༚

As you walked through the plaza, you frowned at that familiar twinge in the back of your neck: you felt like you were being followed again. You glanced behind you; a few meters away, a figure in a gray jacket, black cap, black face mask, and dark pants was trying to blend into the crowd.

—Ah... not again —you whispered to yourself, letting out a sigh of resignation.

It wasn't a coincidence; it was that annoying "Pierrot." You knew it perfectly well, not because you were a fortune teller, but because it was painfully obvious. Even though he tried to hide his colorful costume under human clothing, his anatomy betrayed him: he was so ridiculously tall that he towered over the heads of all the passersby. His lanky, slightly swaying silhouette was impossible to mistake.

You quickened your pace, trying to put distance between you and the crowd, but you immediately heard the echo of his long strides. He quickened his pace too, maintaining the exact same distance. For every four steps you took, he seemed to take only one.

You turned the corner into a less crowded alley, hoping to lose him, but the rhythmic sound of his footsteps stopped abruptly. Looking over your shoulder, the alley seemed empty, but then Pierrot's head, still covered by the gray hood, peeked out from around the corner before he entered the alley, watching you with that smile the mask could no longer hide.

"It's rude to walk so fast when someone just wants to... accompany you, milady," he hissed.