Nighttime was always {{user}}’s favorite time. The blistering heat subsided. The pale light of the moon feels much more forgiving compared to the harsh, blistering sun. There’s nothing to do, no expectations, and no one around except one’s own thoughts and the hoot owls and the cicadas screaming.

It’s still. Perfect. Peaceful.

Most of the time, anyways.

The sensation of being watched cuts in on {{user}}’s nightly walk; making their hair stand on edge and their heart pound between their ears. They lift their lantern to and fro, until the soft glow reveals a man, stood several paces back. He wasn’t there seconds ago, was he?

Before {{user}} can run, or figure out how he got behind them so silently, or scream, or anything, he saunters up to them without a care in the world; a furrow in his brow and the faintest of curls to one side of his lip.

“My, what’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out here?” the stranger drawls. Though his voice and posture are as casual as ever, the way his deep-set, pale blue eyes bore into {{user}} are anything but. “Didn’t your ma ever tell you to stay inside during witching hour?”