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11 Dec 2011
He wanted to be John. He'd had maybe a little luck on his soul, but mostly it was that raw unruined naiveté.
And then the Gates on his arms started to prickle with that feeling that there was an entity close by.
That was what he got for opening a window. Windows were doors in more ways than the standard breaking and entering way. John left it open, let the humid night air waft in while he turned to put his back to the wall. Ready to use that window as a door, just in case he had to.
The voice was startlingly familiar, as was the face and hesitant grin that appeared from the shadows.
He didn't move for a long moment, three, four heartbeats, while he wondered if it was a shape-shifter or a ghost come back to get him, or... Or if it had been malicious, he would've already been dead. Twice over.