The Markiplier ego the Host and the fannon Septicego Robbie the zombie :)

The Host sat in the armchair as usual, by the fire in a dark corner of the small library in the mansion. Small, because half of it had been converted into a meeting room and now there were more books than shelf space. He had his own office of course, however, it lacked a fireplace. 

The Host ran his fingers over the page of the book, mumbling the braille words. His open notebook sat on the side table of the arm chair, next to three cold cups of coffee. He relaxed, continuing to read quietly, pausing on occasion to narrate the goings on in the house.

'...The Host looks up from his book, turning to acknowledge Chase and the unknown stranger... Robbie, as they walk into the room. Chase sees the Host on the couch, calling out…'

'Hey, I'm not disturbing you am I? It's just all the activity in the kitchen was getting to much for Robbie. Host, this is Robbie. Robbie, Host.'

'...The Host reassures Chase that Anti makes every situation difficult and overwhelming. He also greets Robbie and invites him to sit on a nearby chair.' The Host nodded at Chase, who smiled and left the room.

'Why...do ye talk like that?'

'...The Host narrates because of an unpleasant event in his past. He admits that it is not a very nice story. He asks instead if Robbie has an interest in stories…'

Robbie nodded eagerly, his hair flopping into his face, before he frowned. 'Like stories, yes. But...Zombie. Can't read.'

With a small smile, the Host picked up another book off the floor, opening it to the first chapter. He traced his fingers over the page, reading out the story to the puppy eyed zombie. It was only once they reached the tenth chapter, that through pausing to narrate, the Host realised that Robbie had fallen asleep.

'As he listens to Robbie's soft snoring, the Host puts the book on the side table, hoping that the zombie enjoyed it…'