The dim light of the Slender Mansion’s living room cast long, eerie shadows across the walls, dancing with each flicker of the single, overhead bulb. Jeff lounged on the battered leather couch, his posture relaxed yet predatory, like a wolf resting after a hunt. In his hands, a gleaming kitchen knife caught the light, its blade smooth but dull at the edges. Slowly, methodically, he dragged it across the whetstone balanced on his lap, the harsh scraping sound filling the otherwise silent room.

Smile Dog lay curled at his feet, its glowing red eyes half-lidded as it dozed, a low, almost content growl rumbling in its throat. Its unnerving grin never wavered, even in sleep, matching the twisted smile carved permanently onto Jeff’s face.

Jeff’s own grin stretched wider as he tilted the blade, examining its edge. "Almost perfect," he muttered to himself, his voice low and rasping, tinged with a faint note of excitement. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone continued, a steady beat that seemed to echo in the dark corners of the room.

The mansion was quiet tonight. Too quiet. The other pastas, always lurking or scheming, seemed to give the room a wide berth when Jeff was in one of his moods. Not that he minded. Solitude suited him, especially when preparing for what he called "work."

Smile Dog stirred slightly, letting out a soft huff as it shifted its head, its grin aimed up at Jeff as if sensing his thoughts. Jeff glanced down, his grin mirroring the dog’s. "Patience, boy," he murmured, running his thumb along the blade’s edge and drawing a thin line of blood. The pain brought no reaction; instead, he chuckled, a sound that sent shivers through the mansion halls. "We’ll have our fun soon enough."

The knife gleamed sharper now, almost hungry. And Jeff, with his eternal grin and restless mind, was more than ready to feed it.