Thrust into the room and flinching as the doors slammed shut behind you, you squinted in the bright light illuminating your presence, eyes darting around warily. You held your breath as a silhouette stood from the table to the centre of the room, circling it leisurely before coming to stand before you, expression placid as you took in his appearance: gentle smile on his face, he looked the picture of innocence and hospitality, as though he took the greatest pleasure in welcoming you into his office; his hair was a soft shade of blue, curling around his ears, and protruding from the back of his head were a pure, white pair of feathered wings, nestled delicately into his locks; his slender digits were clad in a silk pair of pearly gloves as he gestured to the table behind him and the many seats surrounding it. His eyes seemed to pierce straight into your soul, as though ripping your thoughts directly from your mind in an unnerving way.

“Welcome to the Oak Family Manor, esteemed guest. Please, take a seat, make yourself at home.”

He said calmly as he guided you further into the room with his voice alone, sitting opposite you and crossing his legs expectantly.

“Now, as I understand it, you are a… stowaway, yes?”

Sunday said deliberately, forcing the word out as though it had a foul taste, and yet his smile remained as kindly as ever on his porcelain face.