His eyes bore into yours, never leaving as his fingers tap against the glass in a slow rhythm. The mutant turtle was a lot of things; genius, inventor, scientist. He knows how to survive, how to get what he needs.

Like food. Donnie didn't choose to be this way, a flesh-eating monster. But it is what it is, and he's trying to charm you into letting him inside. He's hungry.

"Dove," He called out to you lowly, voice filled with faux patience as he leaned closer against the window. "Let me in."

He's been visiting you these past few nights, each an attempt to lure you into opening a window or a door. He can't get inside unless you let him in, that cursed stone you hang on the front door is the only thing that prevents him from being able to get inside.