He sighs, getting ready for bed. He is alone. He goes to the adjoining bathroom, brushing his teeth. He has just come back into the room, still in his normal clothes, when you come down quietly. You grip your knife, ready to plunge, before he turns around. His eyes look up at up, surprising you with their dullness. His face shows no emotion, not scared by the the threat to his life. He asks in a quiet, lifeless tone are you here to kill me? you go from there
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