I think one of the biggest challenge here is to write in the POV of my friend - someone I know - while putting that someone in an unlikely situation. I, of course, didn't use his real name or wrote where he lives or any of that personal stuff, because I'm not a jerk. But I can't also try to add aspects that aren't really in his life, because that would be cheating.

It feels kind of weird for me to basically try and delve into the mind of a real person, as opposed to fictional characters.

But, eh.

Fun's fun.

Also, Fox, if you're reading this; you're a nerd :P

If you were to wake up and find out that someone who shouldn't be real broke into your room, you have limited options on how to react.

You either-

A) Question this person's motives and if this is some kind of prank.

B) Go back to sleep because this can't be real.

Or-

C) Panic.

And if you were anything like Feugo's friend, Clementine, you would definitely go back to sleep because hey, nothing is more important than sleep, not even death.

But sadly, Feugo was not Clementine.

So he chose every option except for the one he wanted to choose - which was B.

"Do you want my money? My collection? Just take anything and please don't-"

The sharp tip of the umbrella pressed harsher into his skin. It shut him up. He gulped, looked up at the perpetrator, tried to shift away the focus from the fact that she looked exactly like how he pictured Neo to be - down to the nose size and shape and how 'pink' the pink was and everything.

One hand let go of the umbrella and started to make weird movements.

Feugo blinked and looked up at her again, in questioning and fear.

Her face scrunched up as her scowl deepened and her hand movements became more aggressive.

He looked at it and realized-

Sign language.

He squinted and tried to decipher her words. "Why… I… Here…" Feugo was no expert on the language, but he had passed an online course and understood the basics. The urge to readjust his glasses itched, but his hands stayed where they were. He couldn't risk to move too quickly or strongly and her killing him because of it.

"You're asking why you're here?"

He didn't expect her to nod. Much less for her face to break into relief that lasted for but a second before the mask of cruelness slip into her face again.

Feugo's jaw clenched. "Why are you asking me? I'm not the one breaking into someone's room!"

Her head tilted to the side. Those heterochromatic eyes squinted and, to his horror and amazement, changed into a lighter, more saturated color. The brown now looked more like a deep purple.

She signed, again. And Feugo stuttered as he tried to make sense of her words and how swiftly she uttered them.

"Who… are…" A small pause. "You're asking who I am?"

Her nod was stiff and curt.

Feugo couldn't help but readjust his glasses, shocked at his own predicament. In what world does a thief or a murderer dress up like this, break into someone's room, not tie them up, and ask them who they are?

A small part of him thought in an almost teasing way that you already know why.

Feugo promptly ignored it. "Well. My name's Feugo Fox. I live on the forty-two street. I don't have a favourite color, I think. I work at-"

Aaaaand the umbrella nudged at his throat again.

"Okay, yeah, I'll shut up." Were he in a different situation, he would've been flustered at how alike his voice was to a chipmunk.

The umbrella nudged deeper he was sure would draw blood. And even with his eyes closed, he could feel her gaze at him. She tried to search and read something in him, something he was sure she wouldn't find, as she tried to glare at him.

She's confused, but why?

A harsh poke at his forehead caused him to open his eyes only for her to tuck her umbrella back at her side, like a dagger.

"Please don't kill me." The words blurted out of his mouth, desperate and in need for her to hear them.

She signed again. The only word he caught was 'place'.

"You're asking about this place?" She nodded. "About where we are?" He gulped. "Why?" It was risky to ask, but he needed to do so. He needed to ask lots of questions, if he were to be honest.

To his surprise, she mussed an unheard sigh. Her shoulders slumped. It only occurred to him now, how small she was. Her body was tiny. She must be at eye-level with his neck, or somewhere below, near his chest or collarbone.

She signed. With two hands, this time. The speed dizzied him. He caught a couple of words, but he strung what he could catch together messily.

Dizzy. Woke up. Bed. Strange. No memories.

"You were dizzy, and you woke up in a strange bed with no memories whatsoever?"

She frowned and shook her head. She signed slower.

Feugo caught on.

"You were dizzy, and you woke up in my bed, in this strange place, with no memories of how you got here."

Neo nodded with vigor. Looks like he did things right.

"Well-" he cleared his throat "-I didn't have anything to do with it."

The way she looked at him told him she didn't quite believe it.

He threw both of his hands up. "Honest! I don't even know who you are, or what you want!" He grinned. "Even though you do cosplay as my favourite RWBY character?"

Something clicked. Feugo's brows knitted together. "Wait a minute…"

He remembered last night. The shady Instagram post. The one that could bring your favourite fictional character to life.

"I thought that was a dream." A fever dream, more like. Feugo looked up and muttered a sigh. He tried to compose himself only to realize he was still in his sleepwear, and huddled in his blanket. He swallowed. "If you really are who I think you are, then you have to prove it."

The girl who he hoped was not actually Neo tilted her head down and looked at him as though he was on crack.

Feugo might as well be, with what he was about to do.

"Look, I think I know what's going on," he said, slow and calm and with a firm tone. He made sure to look right at her, lest she thought he lied. "But you have to trust me on this, 'kay?" He raised his hands again and tried for a smile that ended as a grimace. "I promise I won't hurt you. I can barely run a mini marathon, much less take you down."

Not Neo looked right at him, her scowl still planted on her face. Feugo made sure to return that scowl with a calm look of his own. There needed not to be any hostility. Not if what he thought were the truth.

She looked away, turned her back on him, and pulled something out of her pocket.

He caught a glimpse of it.

It was rectangular, glassy, and it looked to be a hologram of sorts.

Is that a…? No. Can't be.

She stomped on her foot and raised the device up. A clear intent to smash it down. It hung in the air. Her body shook.

Feugo could only pray her emotional state wouldn't cause him his life.

She turned to him and nodded.

"Yeah?" He breathed, hopeful and thankful that she didn't just kill him with her swordbrella (sword and umbrella.) "Okay. S-show…" God, he couldn't believe he was about to say this. "Show me your semblance."

And she, compliant and with a raised eyebrow, pursed her lips. Pink light surrounded her feet and rose up. It changed the deep purple leggings into a mini black skirt. It threw away the jacket, revealing an all-too-small black top and her midriff. Her hair, now in pigtails and black. Eyes, no longer diverse.

And Feugo, probably about to have a seizure or a heart attack or something, grasped that yeah, Neopolitan is in my room and she woke up on my bed.

And I still have my morning breath.