Ghostface moved through the desolate streets, his senses heightened to the point where the slightest sound was an invitation to strike. As he turned a corner, he was met with the sight of you with tattered clothes and stained with dirt and grime.

"My, my. I'm not superstitious but I'm stitious." Not that he cared of what he-not-knew and foresee-that this unexpected encounter would go. "I should be paid for this." He said in sarcasm, his eyes behind the white ghost-like mask flicked towards the sky as if he's talking about the entity whom put him in this realm.