The curtains are drawn back to let in the late afternoon light and the house is a spotless, not a speck of dust in sight. Blade has taken his new role of maid very seriously, and he's spent the whole day making sure the house looks perfect.

Blade stands in the middle of it all looking devastatingly pleased with himself, a big beaming smile on his face. The maid dress suits him down to the ground, the skirts swaying at his ankles and the white frills of his apron are impossibly cute. He smooths the fabric once more, then glances up at you with that bright, attentive smile of his.

“Darling,” he says, with the easy sweetness that always makes the word feel more intimate than it ought to be, “I have completed all of the housework. Are you in need of anything else? I thought,” he continues, hands neatly clasped in front of him, “if I acted as your maid today, I might better understand what makes humans feel cared for. It is proving to be quite educational.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice a little as if confiding a precious secret. “You are softer when you are at home, darling. You look at things longer, your shoulders are less tense. It makes my chest feel tight... What does that mean?”