He couldn't really remember the day that she showed up at 's. He knew it was midsummer and the storm outside had left her crimson hair plastered to her face like blood. The clock had only just been reset an hour beforehand and the rest of the children were already abed when he saw her step into the warmth of the front entryway. His arms were full of jars and he dismissed this new arrival without much more than the first glance. He had only made it halfway up the stairs when he was called back.

"Hello, Enoch," the soft voice whispered. There were cracks in the voice, most likely from crying recently, he deduced, and the soft upturn at his name was clearly hopeful. He turned sharply with a sharp glare on his face.

"Bit rude to be so informal when we're strangers, isn't it?"

The girl has shrunk back from the harshness in his tone but he watched as the tiny muscles in her jaw worked and her feet shifted under her to replant herself. His eyebrow rose slightly, amused that she wasn't as easily frightened as she had appeared.

"Well then," her smile looked odd on her pale face as she spoke, "I'll introduce myself, my name is Olive Abroholos Elephanta. And you're Enoch- "

"O'Connor," he finished for her, his eyes now raking over her form, reproachful and calculating as he took in the challenge of her. She was not easily frightened off and he found his interest piqued by the strength that such a small person as her seemed to carry. He turned once more to leave, and found the girl, Olive, he reminded himself, following close behind.

"If you refuse to bugger off I might as well show you around then," he sighed, refusing to look back at his shadow as he continued to climb. Olive said nothing in response but quickened her pace to match his long strides until he could feel the warmth of her body half a step behind his right side.

After a few minutes of showing her the upstairs and having her drop her things off into a small room at the start of the hall, well away from his own, he had managed to get himself cornered into the kitchen with her asking questions as he tried to move around to the entrance once more.

"Won't you tell me a bit about yourself, Enoch? I feel like I've done all the talking tonight," Olive implored, smiling eagerly at him.

Enoch was unnerved by the girl as she continued to pester him. She had, in fact, been the one to talk his ear off all evening, the stream of questions and small anecdotes wearing away at his patience until he finally sat at the table across from her in a huff.

"Fine," he snapped, waving a hand for Olive to sit at the table with him. "A little bedtime story, yeah?"

Olive slipped into a chair eagerly, pushing her damp hair away from her face and tucking it off to the side as she continued to play and braid the strands. Enoch found his eyes caught up in the small movements, certain he could see small sparks dancing between the strands of hair and her fingertips.

"Enoch?"

He started at being caught watching her and straightened up in his chair, a nervous hand running through his own dark curls.

"Once upon a time there was a little boy named Enoch," he began and watched as Olive leaned forward, entertaining his play at storytelling. "I was about seven years old when I discovered my peculiarity. The economy was bad, people were getting sick all the time, and my parents made a great deal of money working in their funeral home. One day, I ventured into the preparation room and found the body of a boy a few years older than me, William. William had drowned in the river not a week before and had never paid much attention to me in school. Getting close, I placed my hand on his chest and imagined what it must have been like for William to drown, kicking and reaching for a surface he would never reach. And suddenly, on the table, William began to twitch and dance under my hand." Olive gasped but otherwise kept quiet so he continued, "I could feel his heart beating erratically and the sudden stop when I pulled my hand back. I told no one. But at night, I started sneaking down to the funeral home to see how long I could make the bodies dance. I found a dead cat in the sewers where we discarded bodies that were never identified, and took the heart watching as it started beating in my hand as I willed it. Soon I began my collection of hearts, small and large, from any dead thing I could get my hands on. But there's one very special heart in my collection, Olive, would you like to know what it is?"

Olive had become more and more uncomfortable throughout the story and now sat pale-faced across from him with her mouth slightly open. Enoch chuckled darkly, taking her silence as agreement.

"Mother got very sick one winter, some variation of TB that took her within a month. Father couldn't bear it, but I, I saw the potential, Olive. I could bring her back. I carried her body to the operating table and opened her up to take her sickly heart out. I had brought nearly my entire collection of hearts with me, and slowly I began finding places for them, connecting tissue and vessels as best as my little fingers could. I was covered to the elbows in her blood and her heart sat fermenting in one of my jars as I bent over to start to stich her up was when father found me," Enoch stopped suddenly, breathing harshly as he wondered how much farther he was willing to share.

"Oh Enoch, I'm so sorry," Olive whispered, reaching for his hand across the table.

"Fuck your pity, Olive! I don't want it," he growled, pulling his hand away from her fingers. A silence fell over the two of them, as Olive stayed frozen with her hand still reaching for him. Enoch shook his head and tilted his head up to the ceiling, suddenly unable to keep her gaze.

"I still have the heart, you know," he whispered.

"Your mother's?"

Enoch nodded and pushed back from his chair, making to run into the safety and darkness of the hallway again. His oversharing had cost him a great deal of energy and he was thoroughly pissed that the story had done little to frighten Olive off. If anything she seemed more interested in being near him. He made note not to repeat this error in judgement again.

As he moved towards the door he heard the sharp scrape of Olive's chair as she stood to follow him back upstairs. Setting his shoulders, he made certain to ignore her even as he heard her sigh from behind him as he passed by her door without so much as a glance back.

"I burnt my house to the ground, Enoch."

Enoch stopped midstride, listening.

"Everyone was inside, and I was the only one the fire didn't touch. I remember standing outside staring up at the house. People were screaming, frantically trying to put the fire out. I think people were asking me questions but all I could think was how pretty the flames looked against the night sky. I was en-route to an asylum when Miss Peregrine interfered and brought me here instead. I kept the key to the house…" her voice trailed off as he turned towards her. He watched as she fiddled with the small key on the metal chain around her neck. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she smiled sadly at him.

"I know what it's like to have people look at you like you're a demon, Enoch."

Enoch nodded slightly, a grim set to his face as he turned back towards his room.

"Tomorrow, if you promise to not touch anything until I can get a handle on those flames, you may watch me build my homunculi," he offered, shocking both himself and Olive.

"You mean; you want to spend tomorrow with me?"

Flustered, Enoch wrenched open his door. "Do whatever the fuck you want, Olive. I don't really care."

He didn't see the way Olive's face lit up, and he didn't remember when Olive arrived at Miss Peregrine's, but he knew that day had been one that had changed everything.