Disclaimer (yay!): You know, I'm running out of creative ways to say that I stole someone else's characters. Does that count?

-We're baaaack-

"Yes, Vicki, yes, I am holding a furry little man. Okay? There's nothing funny about this."

"You not going to die! Don't worry! None bad!" Screeched the tiny person in heavily accented English. He flailed helplessly, trying to shield his eyes and hide his body. Henry frowned and turned his attention back to the domovoi.

"What did you say?"

"You no see me!" Cried the man.

"Yes, you dirty thief, I do see you! I see you and I know what you've done!" His eyes flashed black for a brief second as he tried to control his predatory nature. Vicki, however, was still laughing.

"You…have…to…let…him…hide…Henry…" She said between fits of laughter and gasping for air.

"What?!"

"Henry, he's your domovoi." She had finally gotten control of herself. Sort of.

"He's…he's my domovoi? Vicki, what's a domovoi?"

"They're like…Russian house elves. There's one per house. Or, I guess, apartment, now. This is the one that lives here."

"Put down! Let go! Bad man!" Shouted the domovoi.

"In Russian folklore, seeing the domovoi forewarned of death." Vicki explained. "Obviously, that's not what he meant to do." Henry sighed.

"That would explain the heavy Russian accent." He scrutinized the little man for a few more seconds before carefully bending down and placing him on the floor. His domovoi just scowled at him, made a rather rude face, and scuttled under the stove. Henry stared at the place he'd last seen him, then up at Vicki.

"…Is it supposed to do that?"

"Yep. Under the stove or the threshold, but you don't have the latter." He blinked absentmindedly a few times.

"Where'd Mike go?" she asked.

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Out." Vicki scowled at him, looking so much like the domovoi it was almost frightening.

"He had to go back to work. He got paged. Happy?"

"Yes." Now it was Vicki who had to stop herself from sticking out her tongue.

"No die! Don't worry!" Came the assuring hiss from underneath the stove. Even Henry couldn't help it, he let out an amused "Heh." and the small man who was so insistent that Henry wasn't going to die.

"Kind of ironic, wouldn't you say, Vicki?" Henry smiled at his stove. Vicki laughed, coming to stand next to him.

"So, how do we keep this fellow from taking my paintings? Isn't he a little small to even carry it?" He asked. Despite himself, he was growing fond. The domovoi was paranoid, but in a sense he was just trying to adjust to the modern world. He hadn't asked for a vampire resident.

"Aren't you a little pale for a human?" Vicki countered.

"Point taken." The laws of physics didn't exactly apply to the supernatural (hence the 'super' prefix). "Still," he continued, "for something so insistent that I stay safe in my own home, it seems bizarre for it to want to take my prized painting." Vicki raised one eyebrow at him.

"What?"

"'Prized painting?'"

"…they were some very nice hellhound legs." He protested, though his efforts were futile. Vicki wasn't listening, though. She'd suddenly gone into one of her moods, staring at him blankly.

"Vic?"

"Mmmmhm."

"Are you alright?"

"Mmmmm." She bit her lower lip thoughtfully. The problem, as Henry saw it, was that he didn't know if she was thinking about work or something else.

"Who else lives on this floor, Henry?" He tried to keep the shock from his face and several creative thoughts from his mind.

"Some actor or something, why?"

"Well, we're going to need to find out what his problem is."

"What do you mean?"

"The only reason that a domovoi would take your painting is if it was in a…a feud with the other one. So, his domovoi takes your painting and yours takes his…I dunno, address book or something." Henry frowned.

"…how do we get him to come back out from the stove?" Vicki went to his computer to try and google it.

"Here we go. Try saying this." She pointed to the article she'd found. Henry's brow furrowed.

"Wh…um…" He coughed.

"Suck it up, Your Highness." He winced.

"Dedushka Dobrokhot, please come into my house and tend the flocks." He paused. Nothing.

"Say it again."

"This is incredibly undignified."

"Say it again!"

"Dedushka Dobrokhot, please come into my house and tend the flocks!" He was slightly louder this time.

"Again!"

"I feel like an idiot."

"Don't worry, you sound like one. Say it again."

"Dedushka Dobrokhot, please come into my house and tend the flocks!" There was a scuttling noise.

A/N: I realize that this is much shorter than usual, but I had a barrage of, well, bullshit to do today and I'm now working on four different stories at once. I'd love anyone's thoughts, good or bad! Reviews feed my plot bunnies! Set them free! Free into the cold, cold world!