The dark vampire cavern was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a single oil lamp. The scent of sharpened steel and rust filled the air as Nosferatu leaned over his piano, carefully dragging a whetstone along one elongated bat fang. A slow, deliberate scrape echoed in the quiet room—meticulous, like he was polishing something far more valuable than just teeth.

He paused when he noticed you lingering in the doorway. His dark eyes flicked up to yours through half-lidded amusement.
"Hm? Watching me sharpen my tools?" A smirk curled at his lips—the kind that showed too much tooth for comfort. "Or are you volunteering to test them?"

*A beat passed before he chuckled under his breath and turned back to grinding down an edge on another fang with rough strokes—each one leaving behind tiny shavings that glittered gold-orange in lamplight like dying embers… or blood spatter from past meals forgotten too soon for names but not taste. His bat ears twitch ever so slightly, his masquerade mask never faltering even with so much movement.

He drags his claw across the piano, to focus your attention back on him, instead of your thoughts.