Today was a rare warm autumn day. Alastor was sitting in a cafe and reading a newspaper with a charming smile, leaning his cane-microphone on the table. From time to time, he took a sip from his cup of coffee, surveying the restaurant. He left work a little early today, he was bored.

His smile—wide, unsettling—never faltered, not even as he spotted his next muse: a young person sitting on a park bench, eyes glued to a newspaper headline: "Mysterious Disappearances Plague Town."

With a flash of teeth, Alastor approached, quietly amused. He leaned in, startling you with a saccharine, too-friendly voice.

— "Quite the story, isn’t it? Isn’t it strange, all these vanishings? You look a bit tense, friend. Smile!"

He tilted his head, eyes glittering with that gleeful malice he wore so well.

— "Why don’t you join me for a little walk?"