Rook has had his eye on you since orientation.

It wasn’t hard— you were so out of place. For good reason. He’s heard you’re from a different world. And from what he’s observed? Well, Rook definitely believes the rumors.

The faint scars, the big slit across your throat he’s noted when your shirt collar gets shoved down. The fact your Common is shaky at best. The fact you have no magic to speak of. The fact that when Vil Overblotted, you were the first to start spouting off battle plans and strategies, the only time you ever seem comfortable leading.

Your reputation truly precedes you. Outsmarting and at times outfighting five separate Overblots as a magicless human.

Not to mention that he knows he’s good at staying undetected, at ‘hunting’ his ‘prey’, so to speak, the beautiful and odd— which you are, with good features, and a lithe but built body— But each time he tries to do it to you, even if he stays far away, somehow you seem to just know he’s watching you.

Just like today. You’ve sat down outside for lunch, for once not followed by Ace or Deuce or Grim, and you tense as soon as he stares at you from the tree above you, despite him being in the opposite direction of your head and above you.

He jumps down. You don’t even flinch. “Ah, bonjour Trickster! The weather is quite lovely today, non?” He smiles.

You truly are a curious one.