Wallowing in the companionship of my own company had become old, very quickly. While I might have enjoyed seeking Serafina out to check on her and see how she felt about our ... brief venture into the ghosts of Davante's past, that was a trip I had yet to make. Truth be told, that was a trip I probably wasn't going to make at all. The young witch deserved her space, and she deserved someone to confide in after what she'd seen; that never meant I was comfortable with another individual knowing the vivid, macabre details of my past. It would seem that the skeletons in my closet were eager to shake, rattle, and roll their bones, though, because they had materialized into flesh-formed specters with exorbitant haste, rendering both Serafina and I unsure of how to proceed or how they even appeared in the first place. Don't you usually tell someone if you can see ghosts? Go all Sixth Sense on them and just comment about how you can see dead people, right? Apparently, this was not commonplace. My own powers should have allowed me to understand that perhaps, just perhaps, Sera didn't know that she was capable of this until forced to see the ghosts of my past. Maybe.

Instead of seeking out my most recent companion or biding my time in her office helping Isolt and Damon with paperwork at Red on the Water, I was content to lurk in the quiet of my apartment. In the dark that my environment had succumbed to as the sun went down, I was no longer surrounded by the haunting memories that were brought to my attention in Serafina's basement that night. Instead, I was afforded a kind of mental silence, where emotions didn't flit about and I was given a kind of reprieve that previously I had only associated with the after effects of some kind of drug. Instead, I found myself spending this reverie in the company of my yellow-eyed feline, Church, who presided on the arm rest of the couch I had been lazing upon, staring at me with a kind of brutal condescendence that let me know I wasn't worshiping him obviously enough. My fingers found their way over his fur, lazily, as my Shadow teetered about by climbing on every stable object in it's midst.

The silence was comforting.

That is, until the silence was no more. Broken by the harsh and echoing rap of knuckles against the door, the silence I had been relishing faded away like the sun behind a set of heavy clouds. These clouds marred my eyes, shifting the color from a deep blue to a pale, white color that resembled the brewing of a storm. Maybe it was just that; I had neither particularly wanted company, nor had I expected such a thing. There were a great many people who could have been standing outside the door â€" I half expected to see Azrael's hooded figure behind the peephole with some kind of absurd necessity for my help or aid. What I was greeted with was absolutely not the Hunter, though.

"I don't know, are you going to stutter?"

My words were unnecessarily unamused, but the harsh tone was nonexistent. Alexis didn't deserve the sarcasm or deliberate irritation that I often regarded guests with, especially as the worry and hesitation were more than obvious on her face. Her expression was wrinkled by apprehension, a trait I was accustomed to seeing flit across her demure features. While my gaze might have fallen heavy and my eyes might have narrowed slightly, I stepped aside in order to give her space to walk into my apartment. She'd been here before which gave me the inkling I didn't need to be incredibly hospitable, especially as I hadn't been expecting her. And so, without further ado, I locked the door behind her and fell unceremoniously back into my previous position on the couch by King Church who was lurking impatiently for my return.

"Please tell me that this time, there isn't a small horde of angry idiots swathing behind you? I'm not really in the mood for that."