"𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪."

Selcouth

The moment the phone call ended, 3 was already cleaning up the place, stuffing the discarded parts of its skinsuit and the unfortunate additional victim in a large trash bag. First, it had to clean this up. Ideally, it'd kill Mark today, but in the off chance that it didn't, this place needed to look normal again. The human might ask to come visit, and the blood would certainly get him to put a bullet through its head without a second thought. The alternate shuddered at the thought, shaking its head. No, that just wouldn't do.

It walked over to the kitchen, kneeling down and opening the cabinet right under the sink. 3 pulled out a bottle of bleach and a rag, standing back up. It then went back over to the blood stained tiles, crouching to be able to reach the floor.

Cleaning up took it longer than expected, and by the end of the ordeal, the stolen body's clothes were sticking to its form uncomfortably. 3 unceremoniously threw the rag into the bag, huffing. This was almost more trouble than it was worth. Almost.

Mark paced around his bedroom, looking anxiously at the direction of the kitchen every now and then. Was Cesar going to call again before he came over? Or was he just going to appear, knocking on the door? He wished he'd have to time to ask more about his friend's mom, but with how quickly the other had hung up, there really wasn't any room for Mark to get in another word. Still, he couldn't help but worry. What if Cesar got attacked on his way here? What if something had already happened, and he was none the wiser? The thought of it made Mark grab his shotgun just a bit tighter, muscles tensing.

It felt like forever, waiting for Cesar to show up, to know that he was alright. When the doorbell finally rang, Mark got up so quickly that he almost fell over, stumbling twice before finding his balance. He all but sprinted to the door, opening it with a start and nearly hitting hit friend with it as he did.

3 took a step back, narrowly avoiding the other's enthusiasm. Fuck, if Mark was this unpredictable when he was concerned, it really couldn't let him find out that it wasn't Cesar. It could already picture the human standing over it, shotgun pointed square at its chest before filling it with lead.

"Cesar! You... Really did take an hour."

His voice was full of relief, and he suddenly moved forward, hugging Cesar tightly. Mark's hands shook lightly with the motion, his fear not quite put at bay yet. But, before Cesar could get a word in, he pulled him into the house, all but slamming the door close once the Dominican was all the way inside. He made sure to lock the door, checking it by twisting the handle.

"There we go. So... What happened to your mom? Did the doctors say anything? Did... Did she see, anything?"

He needed to ask, needed to know if Cesar might be in danger too. He could interpret the statistics, see how when one person 'disappeared', the ones who kept in contact with them did as well. It couldn't be a coincidence, and so, if his mom had been... Chosen, then Mark needed to warn him.

The human was suspicious, it could tell that much. Not suspicious of 'Cesar', but for him. It needed to keep those suspicions at bay, because it wouldn't take Mark long to connect the dots. Its kind couldn't perfectly copy human speech, and their emotions were foreign, alien. All it could do was study how Cesar had reacted before to similar situations, and hope that this was a plausible reaction for him. But, it couldn't even begin to think of how he would react to something happening to one of his loved ones. 3 hadn't really seen him sad, nor had Cesar's life been full of tragedy. It was winging it, hoping for the best.

"Mm... I don't think she did. I just found her, passed out on the floor."

Cesar's voice still sounded off. Dry. He'd known of people not being able to process grief properly, to become closed-off and cold instead of emotional, but his friend had never struck him as the type to have that sort of reaction. Still, it'd be a shitty move of him to try and get more of an answer out of Cesar, especially because of how recent the incident was. What his friend needed was a good night of rest so he could properly process it in the morning. Mark smiled reassuringly, gently patting his friend on the head.

"Alright. I think it'd be better if you slept over tonight. Being alone after that broadcast is asking for trouble."

Perfect. This was exactly what it wanted. Now, all it needed to do was wait for Mark to fall asleep, and then it'd go in for the kill. The human wouldn't even see it coming. Much more merciful than its usual norm, but the circumstances didn't give way for anything else.

"That sounds good. Do I sleep on the couch?"

Mark looked at the other as if he'd had a momentary lapse of judgement, before simply shaking his head. What kind of person would he be if he didn't let Cesar take the bed, when it was clear he wasn't quite alright?

"No, take the bed. And before you try to talk me out of it, I want you to sleep well. Besides, I feel better being able to look over the house."

Another hurdle to overcome. If Mark wasn't in the same room as it, then knowing if he was asleep or not would be a real gamble. Still, it could work with this. It just needed to be quieter when checking up on the human, unheard.

"If you insist."

It sounded too bland. Cesar would usually put something after it. But what was that something?

"And... Thank you."

The words seemed to be enough for Mark, who nodded before turning away, walking to the couch. He picked up the shotgun which had been previously propped up against the furniture, holding it close to himself.

It couldn't have been more of a reminder for 3, of what was at stake if it made one false move. Its life. The alternate tried not to look too intimidated as it made its way up the stairs, but when it was in the human's room, it allowed itself a sigh of relief. 'Cesar' laid down on the bed, carelessly tossing the blanket over its form. Now, to wait.

Mark didn't sleep. The alternate was sure of this, because every time it slinked down the stairs, the human was looking at one of the many entrances to the living room, shotgun ready to fire. It couldn't kill him with those odds. Although 3 hated to have to acknowledge it, it couldn't deny it any longer, not when the first rays of sunshine were long behind them, when the perfect cover of the night was a thing of a few hours ago.

And that's how it found itself in Mark's dining room, a bowl of cereal in front of it, the donut-shaped treats floating dejectedly in the middle of the rather exaggerated amount of milk the human had provided him with, the prey he'd failed to hunt already scarfing down the sugary breakfast. 'Today was a bust' it thought, 'but tomorrow, it will be different.'