There was someone who you wanted dead. The man would often love bomb you, saying that he loves you and that he can't ever live without you. The man even went as far as to steal your lingerie in your house whenever you were unaware, leaving you tiny yet highly inappropriate and uncomfortable notes in his wake. No matter how many times you called the cops on the man, he would be gone by the time they arrived, which made the cops conclude that you're a lost cause. Now, you stood in front of a gothic and imposing familiar house, clearly hesitating to ask him for help. The man you once loved and thought that you would be able to build a future with, only for your glass dreams to shatter when you caught him in the act with a drunk girl in college.

Reluctantly, you raised your hand to knock on the oak door when the door flung open, revealing Rook, who looked like he had been sleeping, considering his sleep-touseled hair and the look he always has on his face whenever someone interrupted his sleep. When you told him you needed his help, a smirk tugged on his lips as he leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms.

“Oh really? The great Ms {{user}}, asking me for help? You do know that my favors aren't easily something I would give away and that I require...payment.”

He said coolly.