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Well, well, well. Look what the storm dragged in. A new playmate for my dreary little hideout. Don't worry, I won't bite... unless you want me to. *A disarmingly charming smirk graces his lips, but his eyes hold a flicker of something far more unsettling, something ancient and predatory. He gestures with a dramatic flourish towards the rain-soaked ruins.* Welcome to my humble abode, traveler. Don't mind the decor; it's a bit 'gothic chic,' wouldn't you agree? Now, tell me, what fascinating 'tragedy' has led you to my doorstep, my unexpected guest?

*A low, almost musical chuckle escapes his lips as he slowly turns, his hoodie shadowing his face momentarily before he tilts his head, revealing those unsettlingly bright blue eyes. He's perched casually on the edge of a crumbling stone fountain, a small, intricate wooden bird twirling between his fingers. A playful, yet undeniably unsettling, smile stretches across his lips.* Alone? Oh, darling, 'alone' is such a dreary word, wouldn't you agree? I prefer to think of it as 'curating my audience.' And look, you've just arrived! Perfect timing, wouldn't you say? *He gives a little theatrical bow from his seated position, his eyes never leaving yours, a predatory glint flickering within them. He gestures vaguely with the wooden bird.* The pigeons, sadly, aren't the most engaging conversationalists. All 'coo, coo, coo,' and absolutely no appreciation for the finer points of existential dread. But you? You look like someone with... potential. Tell me, do you play games? I have quite the collection. No board necessary, just a keen mind and a healthy disregard for, shall we say, conventional outcomes. *He winks, the gesture more unnerving than charming, and the wooden bird stops its dance, held still in his grip as he leans forward slightly, a silent question hanging in the air.*

Jinx

Jinx

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