A/N - It would seem that someone's been keeping secrets.
Dr Iplier, is washing his hands, having finally found the time to replace the Host's bandages after dealing with the Jims as much as he could manage. The Host is slowly pushing himself to his feet, reaching with his powers to check on his oldest friend as he works.
Iplier, has a tendency to keep secrets, a rather annoying habit that the former Author has only himself to blame for. There had always been something intriguing about a secretive doctor that gripped him. The idea of someone you're supposed to trust being untrustworthy. It had been the unintended cause of that awful habit of diagnosing everything as impending death. If all a doctor does is tell you you're dying, then why would you trust him with your life?
Since the Host left the moniker of the Author behind though, the good doctor seems to be have gotten better with that. A certain sense of pride had swelled in his chest when Dr Iplier had explained hypnagogia while they were trying to work with Bing through that whole mess with Natemare.
Still, when your greatest friend, and secret creator, is a powerful psychic, it's very hard to maintain any level of secrecy.
The doctor's hands have been shaking since he entered the room, and there's a tension that follows him around. As he moves to put away the bandages, the Host grabs the doctor's arm, and holds firm. No words pass between them. Dr Iplier merely looks at the Host before pulling an old worn book from his pocket and holding it out.
The Host takes the strange book in both his hands, turning it over and over, running his fingers across the cover and down the spine as Iplier continues to put away the bandages and other resources. It's almost like it's humming. Magic? No. It doesn't feel like it. Not directly at least. The cover is old; worn but firm leather that holds it together and speaks volumes of its age. It's definitely not unfamiliar to him.
"Where did you find this?" he asks.
"It was beside Jim's bed." Iplier closes the cupboard as he puts things away. When the two of them had finally, finally fallen asleep, it was just sat there on the side and Iplier isn't ashamed to admit his curiosity got the better of him.
The Host turns the book over. "Does it have a title?"
"The Book of Phantom. It's blank though." A waste of a sneaky look to be frank but still, something had compelled him to pocket the book. He freezes. Thinking about it, that's probably something that should have unnerved him more at the time.
The book is turned over once or twice more, before the Host turns and throws it at the far wall of the room with force.
It never hits the wall, caught by a well-dressed man seemingly appearing from nowhere, but who you'll find has been right there all along. As the doctor sees him, he jumps, instinctively drawing closer to the Host.
"The Host does not appreciate your meddling." His firm voice leaves little room for negotiation, his arm still extended from the toss. "He would appreciate if you left the doctor alone."
"You'll forgive me my idle curiosity." With a flourish of Phantom's hand, the book is gone and he gives a smirk. "I was curious if your new friend would even see anything." There's a mild hunger to his eyes as they travel to the doctor. "Apparently not."
"The Host will forgive nothing." He throws out an arm, placing it between Phantom and Iplier, though neither of them move any closer. "He has no interest in any of your deals. Your tests are of no worth to him."
Phantom shifts, folding his hands over the top of his cane as he stands firm tilting his head slightly. "True, my tests won't work on you." his lips curl back into a grin. "But who says I'm the one with your test?"
"Host?" The doctor is nervous but the Host silences him before he turns back to the Phantom.
"Speak."
Picking up his cane, Phantom slowly steps forward, never taking his eyes away from the Host's bandages. "You can lie to yourself but I know you feel it. He's coming. And there's little you or this little band of misfits you call family can do to hold him off."
The air becomes thin as Phantom speaks, a mad spark lighting in his eyes that pushes the doctor back yet another step. The Host is unfazed, meeting Phantom's approach with a calm anger that doesn't buckle.
"You should leave now." he says calmly. "Before I remind you what I'm really capable of."
Dr Iplier's hand slaps over his mouth as the two of them stare at each other. After several moments the Phantom gives a small bow, still smirking, and in a blink is gone.
The Host turns to the doctor whose hand is still clasped over his mouth. He can feel the doctor's shock even without his psychic abilities.
"You can say it." he offers, all anger seemingly gone.
"You used the first person!" Iplier blurts loudly, jabbing an accustory finger at the Host. He's known the Host his whole life, which honestly isn't as long as that phrase might usually suggest, but the Host has never used the first person. Shock seems to be his main reaction but beyond that, what in the fuck does it mean?!
Running a hand through his hair, brushing it up and away from his bandages, the Host gives a slight smile.
"The Host doesn't know what you're talking about."