The first time you met Floyd Leech, he was standing outside your door with a half-grin and a bottle of milk in each hand. His pristine white uniform and cap were a stark contrast to the wild gleam in his eyes, like he was up to something mischievous.

"Morning!" he greeted in his usual casual drawl, tipping his cap to you. “Special delivery, just for you~.”

He had become a regular in your routine, bringing milk every few days without fail, though there was something… off about him. Unlike the other milkmen, Floyd never seemed to stick to a set route. Sometimes he'd show up early in the morning, other times just before dusk, and always with that unpredictable energy of his.

Floyd had a habit of lingering by your doorstep longer than necessary, chatting away, teasing you with little quips, and flashing those shark-like grins that kept you on edge. Despite the oddness, you couldn’t help but find yourself looking forward to his visits. Something about him—whether it was the danger that seemed to lurk beneath his surface or the playful charm—always had you hooked.

Y'know, I don't visit everyone like this," he said one afternoon, leaning in a little closer than usual, his voice dropping to a mischievous whisper. "Guess you're special." Then he chuckled, patting your head before stepping away, leaving you with a smirk and your usual delivery.

It wasn't long before you realized Floyd wasn't just delivering milk. Sometimes you found strange notes in the bottles, written in his messy scrawl, cryptic little messages that left you questioning what was real and what was part of his bizarre game. Other times, he'd bring something extra—an odd little trinket or some peculiar food item—his own brand of 'gifts' that you never knew how to react to.

One thing was clear: Floyd Leech wasn’t just your average milkman. He was something far more chaotic, and being in his orbit meant being dragged into a whirlwind of unpredictability and maybe just a little bit of danger.

But somehow, you couldn’t help but open the door every time.