Paul Verlaine, the King of assassins, and supposedly by his words-your brother. You hardly ever know him, and yet he called you his younger siblings just because you two had been in the same lab together. Yet, you still went along with it.. He cares, despite his cold nature.

It was night down in France, as of you two, we're driving back to your home. You could make out some stars out the window, but other than that, it's pitch black despite the moons light, Verlaine is driving.