About a week after Arthur brought Francis- the other Francis home, he decided that he would go out and make some friends properly. I wanted to go with him, but I had decided to stay home and make dinner for him, for when he returned. I had gotten into the habit of doing so before my leave. Arthur, as it turned out, was a terrible cook, and so I decided to cook for him from time to time. He wouldn't go out as I remained at his home, but he would sit and watch, trying to mimic my cooking style. It really was a nice time, and so it was a bit lonely when I cooked for him that night as he went out to the bar. After I finished, I looked over my work, a pretty perfect quiche, chicken on the side, a wonderful dinner.

I stood out on the porch, looking up at the moon. I wondered if I would stay down in Arthur's house, or may I say apartment, forever this time. But then I thought...maybe not. I figured that I was sent back to keep Arthur from doing anything else. I hadn't thought that he would do anything, but who knew at that point. I had thought that he wouldn't do so, and here just a couple of days before that night, he had done it again. Something in me continued to believe that Arthur wouldn't do anything after the next bad thing, and the next bad thing. I wanted to believe so at least.

Just as I was about to go inside, Arthur pulled up into the apartment parking lot. He stepped out of the car, and another man practically crawled out of the other side. I quickly walked back inside, making sure my dinner was still okay. Still nice. I heard Arthur unlock the door and watched as he came in with the stumbling man under his arms. He was making sure that he didn't fall...how nice.

"Nice place, um... Arthur was it?" The other man stopped and sniffed the air, smiling. "Did you cook before you left?" He stumbled over to my quiche and chicken, beaming and turning back to Arthur, who only shrugged.

"I didn't cook, no," Arthur nodded at me, "thanks." The other man didn't notice the gesture and quick exchange of words as I explained all that I cooked and how I prepared it and so on. I was only heard by Arthur of course, but I didn't really care. I continued to go on about the food and how it would keep Arthur and his visitor in good health, well...in comparison to other things that I could have made. Arthur listened as if I was a professor giving a lecture, the other man made a whole bunch of squealing sounds as he stuck his finger into a piece of the quiche.

He sucked on his finger and as I would have guessed, he really enjoyed it and savored the taste. "This is good! Do you have a wife or something? It tastes like a wife made it." Arthur shook his head and told him that he didn't with a bit of a blush. "Oh...no? A maid?"

I stopped Arthur from saying no. "Just say yes. Tell him that she left, and then if he ever asks on another day about her, tell him that you fired her." It made sense to me at least. A man that hires a maid for an apartment room, it sounded somewhat plausible. So Arthur told the man about his fake maid, and he simply nodded, sticking his finger in the quiche again. "Can we eat this?"

Arthur and his visitor sat down on a couch that I recognized from his other house and ate the quiche and chicken. "Arthur, what's your guest's name?" I asked because I was quite curious. I was also proud that Arthur had found someone that seemed relatable, or at least that's what I concluded between the man's drunken hiccups.

"So Toris," Arthur turned to the man, answering my question, "what else do you like? Any good bands that I might know or you think I wouldn't know but I actually do know? Hm?" Toris seemed startled by the question, jumping at Arthur's long string of questions and pausing to stare at him. "Arthur? Your eyes are pretty, did you know that?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his random observation, I quietly made my way back into the kitchen to steal a piece of quiche for myself. I was sure that Toris wouldn't notice and Arthur wouldn't care much. "You think so? Not a lot of people compliment me on my eyes." I felt Arthur's eyes boring into me and I couldn't help but laugh out nervously.

"I'm not complimenting your eyes again." I had done so once, but it wasn't notable. A short time before my leave, I had complimented him on his eyes, and he never replied to it, got mad at me for saying so even. I had thought that he didn't like it, but now I supposed that he liked the compliment more than I thought. Toris asked him what he was looking at, and he simply told him that he was looking at the time.

Arthur turned back to the brunette and clapped his hands together, "Would you like to watch TV? In my room?" He had cleaned and replaced all the sheets on his bed since the other day, so I also encouraged it. Toris agreed to do so and the two of them went into the bedroom and blah blah, probably did more than watch TV, but I found it was none of my business and only smiled when Arthur walked out of the room in his boxers, biting his nails.

"Oh, what's wrong? Tired? Can't tell your guest to leave?" I chuckled and laid on the couch, thinking I'd done such a good job, "I would tell him that you want to go to sleep so he has to go if that's what you're trying to tell him."

He shook his head and paced the kitchen, still biting his nails. "I like him, not as much as I like you, I like him as a friend and you, I'd marry you, I would." I didn't know if I wanted to be flattered or not and simply told him to get to the point. "I don't want him to leave." I paused, staring up at the ceiling, then I pondered his words. He didn't want me to leave, he didn't want Francis to leave, and now he didn't want Toris to leave.

Quickly rolling off the couch and standing, I looked Arthur dead in the eye. My sudden movements caused him to jump a bit, and he began to pace again. "Arthur...Arthur don't you dare. Don't. You. Dare."

Arthur chuckled and paced towards the quiche and chicken. "Don't I dare what?" He made his way over to me, circling his coffee table for awhile, until he walked over to the kitchen again. "Don't I dare what, Francis?"

"Don't you dare put a hand on him! Don't kill him, don't do anything to him, don't...don't touch him!" I screamed at him as he smirked and reached for his knives. He studied it and briskly walked towards his bedroom, where Toris was. "Arthur! Oh my goodness if you don't stop then you're...Mon Dieu please stop! Please!" I followed after Arthur into his bedroom to see Toris sleeping in his bed as naked as day. I pleaded with him not to harm poor Toris, not to thrust him into a world that he never asked for. He didn't listen, and before he plunged that knife into him, I rushed out and covered my ears, sliding down the wall, but this didn't muffle the blood-curdling screams that echoed throughout the apartment.

I whimpered and shut my eyes as tight as I could manage, hands still over my ears, screaming for Arthur to stop. I felt useless, I couldn't save Toris, couldn't save the nice man from Denmark, couldn't save the poor minor named Raivis, a rather charming man named Roderich, Ivan, Alfred, and countless other victims I didn't quite know. Though I did manage to save some...