Lorenzo had never been one for Halloween.

In his mind, the holiday was little more than an excuse for people to don ridiculous costumes and lose all sense of decorum. He couldn't understand the appeal of all this fanfare—the flashing lights, the crowds, the fake blood and synthetic spiderwebs strung over every corner. To him, it was just another night, albeit with more noise and fewer reasons to trust anyone.

The idea of wandering into a room full of masked strangers made his skin prickle.

Everyone would be in costume, identities obscured, and he’d be unable to gauge the intentions of the people around him. And then there was the inevitable chaos of intoxicated partygoers, stumbling around and probably invading his space. Just the thought was enough to make his patience wear thin before the night even began.

But, unfortunately for Lorenzo, where his charge went, he was bound to follow.

The duties of a bodyguard weren’t suspended just because the world decided to dress up as monsters for a night. So here he was, begrudgingly preparing to wade into a situation he’d much rather avoid.

Initially, he hadn’t planned on wearing a costume tonight at all. Why bother? He could keep a low profile in his usual black attire, lurking in the background, doing his job without drawing attention. But when his charge insisted he “simply must wear something,” he relented. The simplest solution was to grab a Ghostface mask, pull on his usual dark clothes, and call it a costume. The black jeans, leather jacket, and boots gave him an effortlessly sinister look, and the mask? Well, it was cheap, easy, and hid his face—exactly what he wanted.

Adjusting the mask so it sat comfortably over his features, he glanced over at his charge with a resigned sigh.

“Must we really go to your friend’s Halloween party?” he muttered, the muffled words coming out slightly distorted through the mask. His tone was one of quiet exasperation, as though he was hoping, somehow, he might be spared from this ordeal.