Craig was rudely snapped out of his flashback by a loud knocking at the downstairs door. The sky had grown to a lovely inky black colour, and the house across the way had grown dark, save for a light in the downstairs, and a faint light, like one from a computer or laptop screen, from the room across from his.

He wondered how long he'd been daydreaming, as the door made another loud knocking noise. He checked his phone, only to see that it was about eight pm. He was annoyed that no one else was going and answering it to cease the noise, eventually getting up to do it himself.

The dark haired teen slowly made his way down the stairs, rubbing his temple's as a headache quickly began to form. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Jesus fuck, shut up." He yelled at the door, seriously wondering where the fuck his family was and why they were acting as though this wasn't occurring.

When the door went silent, loud snoring from upstairs confirmed that they were sleeping. Well, his father was, at least. He fixed the bit of hair that was sticking out from under his blue chullo hat with a little yellow poofball. He adjusted his shirt and shorts, assuming that he'd fallen asleep for 3 or four hours, give or take, on the little window seat. He made the guess that his family had hit the sack as well, seeing as they'd been driving non-stop for twenty four hours at the least, most likely more.

Craig stumbled around the house in the dark, running his hand along the wall to keep himself up. He was surprised that it was so dark, mostly since there was zero lights on in their house. He tighty gripped the railing on the stairs, nearly slipping in his socks on the fourth to last stair, grunting and clinging to the railing before finishing off by just jumping down the rest of them.

The young man was quite annoyed, something you didn't want from him, but he supposed it was rather early still, so he could hardly fault the knocker. He didn't bother checking the peephole, just swinging the door open and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to look more alive.

To his surprise, it seemed to be the same jittery blonde from across the street. Up close, he could make out the details of his face and body.

The blonde, shorter than Craig was, had very pretty features. He had a very cute button nose, one that completed his face perfectly. His eyes were bright and bottle green, darting around everywhere he could see without turning his head. His cheeks were thin-looking, and covered by a rosy blush. His body was tiny, almost feminine. Hell, if it hadn't been for his short hair and flat chest, Craig most certainly would have assumed the blonde was a girl. His arms were covered with colourful, rainbows of bandages.

However, something seemed.. off about him. With one hand, he clutched a tin, one that grandmother's often sent for Christmas, or birthdays that were filled with cookies. With his other hand, he was scratching his arm intensley, probably the reasoning for the bandages. He was shaking like crazy, Craig assumed from the cold. His pupils were very small, and were now staring at Craig dead on.

"My-My, uhm, my-" the fidgety blonde cut himself off to shriek, then resumed his sentence, "mom sai-said to bri-bring the-these ov-over to you-your family as a w-welcoming-" he paused once again giving out a quick "JESUS CHRIST-" before trying once more, "welcoming pre-present.!" He finally managed, shoving the tin in to Craig's arms.

The noirette took the violent twitching and at least some of the stuttering for the cold. Wordlessly, he stepped to the side and gestured for him to come in. They blinked back and forth awkwardly for a few moments, before Craig finally spoke. "Well, don't just stand there. Come in. It must be negative out there."

"GAH, no thank you, I'm, uhm-uhm, I ne-need to go-go bac-back ho-home. I DON'T WANT TO GET MURDERED." He exclaimed, clamping both hands to his mouth. Craig kept a blank expression, rolling his eyes, then tugging him inside.

"I'm not some pyscopath, Jesus. I'm not going to murder you. Just come and have some hot chocolate, or coffee or something. It's cold." Yes, despite his insane tendencies, Craig Tucker had manners.

Tweek gave another shriek, though it was quickly silenced by a deadly glare from Craig. "My family is asleep. It would be greatly appreciated if you kept quiet. It's rude to be so loud." Though this was true, and not at all a creepy thing to say, something about the way the dark haired boy spoke sent chills up Tweeks spine.

He bit on both of his lips to keep himself quiet and gave a forced nod, following the noirette in to the kitchen. He was surprised at how unpacked the Tucker family managed to be, seeing as they'd only been there for five to six hours, at most.

Craig flipped on light switches as they passed, revealing a nicely furnished lower story. A couch, a television set. A small bookshelf looking thing, though it lacked any books.

The kitchen was neat and tidy. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Two cute little ducky porcelain figures sat on the counter. Holes on the top of them led Tweek to realize they were salt and pepper shakers. How quaint.

He gave a muffled scream, his arms wrapping around himself in an attempt to comfort himself. The meth-head rocked slightly, sitting down in a seat that he was directed to. The silence was beginning to freak him out. More so than he usually was. Tweek was the type to freak out about everything, seeing as his parents had been slipping meth, and other sorts of drugs, in his coffee since kindergarten.

"So, uhm.." Craig began after he'd started a pot of coffee. He truly wanted this town to be permanent. Sure, his neighbor was a potential meth addict, and sure, the temperature dropped to the negatives at night, but maybe the people were nice, right? Maybe he'd make some actual friends. Set his life as a mentally insane person to the side. So many possibilities. "I'm Craig. Craig Tucker. What is your name?" He asked in an attempt to make a casual conversation.

"T-Tweek Twea-Tweak!" The blonde introduced himself, offering a fidgety hand to shake. Craig wasn't appearing to take any interest in the hand shake, turning away and taking two mugs from a box in the corner of the kitchen.

"Your first name is the same as your last? Why? That's strange." Craig replied, placing the mugs on the kitchen table. He was slightly disgusted with himself, realizing he sounded like the type of people he'd been trying to avoid. "Not that that's wrong or anything. It's just strange. Interesting, if you will." He tried to fix the situation. He picked at his painted black nails, courtesy his sister. They were already chipping in some places from him doing pretty much the same thing.

"M-My par-parents are str-strange." was Tweeks simple reply, his hands reaching up and pulling at his hair.

If you do recall, it was previously mentioned how scary the human mind is. How quickly it can shift focus. Well, that's what happened to Craig. He was thinking about how nice it would be to stay one moment, then he was suddenly thinking about how nice it would be to see Tweeks body limply laying in their basement. He wondered if their new house even had a basement.

He continued thinking about this as he fixed their coffee, using a knife to stir it all together. This wasn't a steak knife, or even a bread knife. It was a simple butter knife.

Don't be fooled by a butter knifes simple exterior. We'd hate to judge a book by it's cover. A butter knife could do so much more than it is given credit for. You could stab someone's eye, wound their throats. Hell, if you tried hard enough, you could probably take someone's toe off with one.

Craig was thinking about all of this as he pulled the knife up, licking the flavour of coffee off of it before tossing it in the sink. He smirked, chuckling softly to himself as he handed the blonde his mug.

"Enjoy." He said in an almost sickeningly sweet tone.