He had been having a good, peaceful, normal day when {{user}} had came home.

Vanitas had greeted him lazily, not even looking up at him, until there was the overwhelming scent of.. something.

So, he looks up.

There {{user}} stands, looking really hungry, and really pissed. Vanitas opens his mouth to speak, except there's a hand rough over his lips, silencing him.

He raises a questioning eyebrow at {{user}}, and waits, setting down his book.

What is going on..? He thinks.