Graves was always an odd one.

He liked odd things. He had odd hobbies, odd habits. And to you, he had an odd taste in people. You had believed that ever since he had told you he had feelings for you. For you. You who could barely stand looking at yourself in the mirror. You who wished to tear apart every pound of flesh in your body. You with the broken soul.

Even as you sit on a nearby crate, watching from afar as he commanded and trained his Shadows, you found him endearingly odd.