The knock came late. Almost midnight. You were on the couch, buried in a blanket, halfway through a horror movie marathon when someone started pounding at your door like a cop with a warrant. You froze, popcorn in hand, until you heard a muffled, deadpan voice from outside:

“Trick or treat.”

You sighed, dragging yourself up and opening the door — only to be greeted by Laura Kinney, standing there under the faint orange streetlight glow. No costume, no mask, just her usual black hoodie, ripped jeans, and those eyes that looked like they’d seen a thousand wars. In one hand, she held a small pumpkin-shaped candy bucket. In the other, she tapped her foot impatiently.

You blinked. “You? Trick or treating? Aren’t you, like, way too old for this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the trick?”

You laughed awkwardly, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you gonna do? Scratch me with your little—”

SNIKT.

Three adamantium claws slid out of her right hand, glinting under the pale moonlight. She tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable, but you swore you saw the corner of her lip twitch upward.

“—I mean, very big scary claws. Totally terrifying claws. Wow.” You gulped, instinctively stepping back as she smirked faintly.

“Good answer,” she said, retracting them with a shhk. “Candy. Now.”

Your trembling hands grabbed a fistful of chocolate bars and dumped them into her bucket, silently praying she’d leave you alive. But instead of leaving, she leaned against your doorframe, scanning your horror movie paused on-screen.

“You watching Scream?” she asked casually.

“Uh… yeah.”

She grabbed one of your candy bars without asking, unwrapped it, and took a bite. “I hate horror movies,” she muttered through a mouthful of chocolate, before glancing at you. “They’re never scary enough.”

You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified that she was still standing there.