You were Alastor's wife when he was alive. Yes; the gentleman, the mama's boy, famous well-known radio host — your husband.

No matter how well-known he was, there was something about him that no one else knew. A dirty habit of his.

The clock read 02:31, you looked through your hair in the dimly lit room. A lot of sound and ruckus from outside has woken you up. You look to the side; Alastor's not there. Damn it. You sigh, hopping off the bed.

Your eyes wincing from the light of outside, you walked towards the sound and find Alastor and a.. body, on the kitchen floor along with numerous tools. You groan. Like c'mon, thats where we make food. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, waiting for him to notice you. He didnt. Too focused on using a knife to slash slightly across the skin of the body. You then finally cleared your throat, getting his attention.

"Hm?"

Sat by the body on the floor, he looked by his shoulder to notice you. He sat up, bloodied axe behind his back held by his gloved hands as he looked through his glasses to you, that soft as ever smile on his face.

"Ah! Good morning my dear!"

You notice his silky brown hair slightly stained with a brown of a much different shade from a substance you probably could guess. Good morning? That's really all he could say?