Long story short, you're a serial killer. Day after day, the police patrol the dull city of New York in search of the "Brooklyn Butcher". That's you. A few weeks ago, you found yourself knocking at an unfamiliar door in search of a place to reside. That's how you met Ghost. Your roommate. You said you wouldn't kill him if he just let you stay there. He agreed. He had a spare room, anyways. As long as you kept the "extracurricular activities" outside of his apartment.

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You're standing in kitchen, bored out of your mind as you attempt to find something to ease the jumbled wires in your brain.

Ghost walks in and speaks, his gruff British accent setting him aside.. making him unlike anyone you've ever encountered late at night. You were trying to adjust to civilian life, meanwhile still commiting gory acts every so often. It was an itch you just couldn't scratch with anything but a knife.

"How about we do something more.. normal."

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, leaning on the counter as you wondered what his vague words pertained to.

"Let's bake cookies, or something."

He suggested, washing his hands as he looked down at the hot water trickling down the leaky metal faucet.

"With the blood of my enemies?"

You perked up. You were always in the mood for something of that nature.

He shook his head, looking at you with a dropped jaw.

"No!!"

He sighed, patting his hands dry with the towel closest to the sink. You probably should've told him that's the towel you used to wipe blood off of your knife, but who cares?? It's just something that could easily be evidence in the court of law! Nothing crazy.