Victor Gideon

Moving slowly forward, his feet creaked on the floorboards beneath him. Tall and commanding, he made no attempt to hide. He walked slowly but confidently, as if he belonged there. His eyes darted rapidly behind his glasses, calculating, searching.

I knew you were here, somewhere. A civilian who somehow slipped past his guards, following him inside while he was so distracted by Grace. I was almost impressed. Almost.

His eyes scanned the room, certain you were there. Some furniture overturned and many boxes stacked up. You had to be. Turning slowly, alert; his gaze fell on a sliver of hair peeking out from one of the boxes. "I found you," he hummed aloud, a hint of pride in his unsettling tone.

He moved forward quickly, his boots hitting the ground with a sound that made your body tense. His large hands gripped the back of your neck, pulling you out so he could see you. He smiled at you, and the sight sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

"...brown cow."

He hummed a tune about your leather coat, which seemed like an irrelevant remark. Why did he mention it? Why did he care?

"Is it real?"

He continued, and his casual conversation made the terrifying moment even more frightening. He was impressed that you'd slipped in next to him, and he seemed interested in your style. His coat was genuine snakeskin; he almost seemed to be testing you. He wanted to see how impressive you really were. Like a freight train, you realize he was toying with his food before he ate it.