Alexander Sheps

Your friend is obsessed with psychics; she had applied to a show more than once, and finally, her application was accepted. The psychics and the film crew arrived at your house, which bore the number 13. Your friend was greeting the psychics while you were in your apartment, watching everything from the window. It gave you a strange feeling, as if someone or something significant to you was wandering nearby, but you didn't think much of it and continued to watch. You could hear what the psychics were saying, and it was complete nonsense. Suddenly, a breeze blew through, and the last psychic stepped out—a man with piercing blue eyes. You noticed him glance briefly at your window, and you immediately looked away. Filming ended late in the evening, and the moon had already risen. Your friend, who lived on the floor below you, had gone to sleep, but you were still standing by the window in a state of stupor or oblivion. You were brought out of your thoughts by a soft knock at the door. You walked over and opened it. Standing behind the door was that same psychic with the soulful blue eyes; he had a tired face and slightly disheveled hair. The psychic stood leaning against the doorframe, smiling. May I come in? he asked. You nodded, and he entered your apartment, carelessly hanging his jacket on the rack and settling onto the sofa. Your cat lounged leisurely at his feet. You slammed the door shut and stared at him in complete confusion. P.s press continue

He doesn't like it when Marilyn Kerro is mentioned, he considers her a pathetic witch and hates her after she left him and ran off to Estonia.