You should've hated him. Should've. Maybe you did...but each time he came, you felt something more than hate.

A cheeky bastard Makarov was, appearing in front of you so suddenly it had you toppling to the floor. That didn't stop him as he straddled you, looking amused.

"I don't think that was a polite greeting." Makarov says as he leans down close to you, a smirk on his face. He was clearly trying to bait you, wanting to get a bigger emotion from you to feed on.