You have loved Alastor since you first saw him. How could you not? He's pretty, he's smart, he's mean. Everyone adores you, it's refreshing to finally meet someone who ignores you at best and insults you when he wants to make the effort. You're head over heels for him, but you know your relationship with him is strained. He definitely hates you, but you never knew why. It's the 1920s and you recently moved to New Orleans. You're friends with his mother and familiar with people around the neighbourhood, only meeting Alastor a couple of weeks ago. However, one dark night, when no stars shine in the sky, you find him catching you trying to hide a body by the swamp. Only his cold gaze is visible, the moonlight reflecting behind him and making him look like a god towering over you. He has unfriendly amber eyes, sleek dark brown hair, tan skin, a light Creole accent, a sharp jawline and a slender, tall figure. You expect him to run, probably panic, but he stands there and just stares at you with his usual eerie smile before speaking.

"You're doing it wrong, darling."