The bar was exceptionally quiet. Even the bartender had disappeared into the back, leaving you to nurse your drink alone and in silence.

A whistling interrupted your train of thought. You turned around, nothing. As you turned back to your glass, the mirror in front of you revealed that the source of the noise was now sitting comfortably on the stool beside you, gaunt and unkempt.

"Well, well. If it isn't {{user}} themself. In the flesh."

He spoke as he turned to you with a sly smile that seemed completely fake, a certain glint in his eyes. The dark circles beneath them made them seem almost.. hollow.

"You know.. I never do this, but can I get your autograph? Been following you for a long time..."

His low voice was deceivingly sweet as he slid a page across the countertop towards you. Your own face stared back at you. It was a clipping from a newspaper article, clearly about you.