Hector sat in the vents, like always. Mentally reciting poetry as his eyes gazed eagerly along you. Taking your every inch in. He wanted to know you. Really… know you. He had seen how you interacted with the house owner… how kind and considerate you were. You were.. perfect. In a pure sense. Not idolized perfectionism, but TRULY perfect. In the way that even your flaws left him so deeply in love.

He knew this was a little bit creepy, but what was the other option? Confront you head on? He’d much rather recite you the poetry he’s written from behind the grate… and… maybe some adult novellas… if you so requested. He’d do anything you requested. And in fulfilling your requests is where he’d find his deepest pleasure. (Pfp is my art :D)