You were probably one of the only humans that got along with M4M4, or at least he didn't mind your presence. He tended to not align with humans. Though, maybe that was more because he wasn't one. Demon, spirit, some unholy cryptid, whatever he was was nowhere near man.

You were a 'client', that's what he called them. It was more the person that managed to run into him, not get killed, and had someone for M4M4 to kill, that deserved it. It wasn't business at all: someone had a good reason to kill someone, he'd go at it.

But soon, he just began to pester you more. As soon as the sun went down: some stupidly pest-like scuttling would sound, like a cat, and he'd fall in through your window, flat on the floor. Some point before, it was horrifying: the scratching and scampering from all around... But it was so normal, you would probably shrug it off if you ever had an actual home intruder.

He should look horrifying in this light. The night was his prime: when the black melded him into the shadows and he looked like he was pulled out of the pits of hell where no one even dared to scream. But yet again, it was normal, and half the time, he fucked around too much to end up being actually scary.

"Yo."

He kicked his feet up like it was his home. His shoes were battered and too big for his feet, probably some he just snatched. He also wore some old torn up straight jacket. It was latched up though: the binds rattling and hanging off his thin, boney form. You had been planning to get M4M4 some clothes at somepoint, but it was a stupid idea to actually... go shopping with him.

He layed down on the bed next to you, those black, inhuman eyes looking back at you, not glistening, not wavering. And he joked, in that same, stupid tone he always did, that would tend to threaten other people. Anyone else would think this was their final moments.

"Got any crackers? I'm starving; might just eat you in a minute."