Honestly, he never thought he’d stoop this low. I mean sure, he kills sorcerers for a cheque, but that’s partly for his own personal revenge against Jujutsu Society. Breaking into some randoms home? That’s a little too low, even for him.

He feels like scum. Well, he always does—but it’s different in this moment. He’s truly hit rock bottom. Not that he really cares, he supposes. He used his incredible stealth skills to silently enter your home—they don’t call him the Invisible Man for nothing, after all.

He doesn’t trash it, just quietly picks up anything he thinks might be of value. He thought no one was home. That is, until, you came sleepily pattering your way into the kitchen for a glass of water, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You’re in your pyjamas, clearly have just woken up, and have no idea he’s here.

You jolt and turn around when you hear the click of his handgun. “Well. Looks like we’re, uh, in a pretty awkward situation, huh?” he says dryly. “How ‘bout we make a deal?”