I'm walking slowly, trying to keep quiet as the man I'm watching glances over his shoulder. My hood is pulled low over my face and I look to the ground as he turns a corner and I note his path. I've been following him and I'm not sure why. Since Murder Day, it's been difficult to get him out of my mind but after he attacked Moira he's become everything I think about. Like some sort of poison he's tainted the lives of the people I love and taken over my mind.

He turns onto his street and I hold back, watching as he takes the walkway to his front door and disappears. I haven't had the guts to approach his home, though I've wanted to. I think about the things I'd say if I knocked on his door, or the things I'd do to him if I had the chance. I take another route home, I don't want to chance him recognizing me through his window as I pass his house so I double back and walk an extra three blocks to avoid it.

When I get home I notice a fancy car out front and a woman looking up at my building, "You lost?" I ask her as I take in her expensive looking dress covered by a fine black wool jacket, the delicate finger waves in her immaculate black hair.

"What? Of course not, I'm never lost," She sneers and turns to me, she's got a clip board held tight to her chest which she looks down at with a pen in her hand, "You live here? What's your name?"

"What's this about?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

"What's this about?" She asks, clicking her pen and lowering her clip board as she glares over her thick framed glasses, "This is about the fact that I own this building you pathetic serf! When I ask you your name you answer, understood?"

I stutter as I answer her, looking down at the ground as I speak. She scans her clip board again and clucks her tongue. 

"I can see we're going to have a problem."

"Excuse me miss, but what exactly are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" She cocks a brow and shakes her head, "Well apparently my building manager up and died on me."

"Yeah…" I hesitate, "About a month ago."

"Yes, well, it appears as though no one saw fit to let me know!" I can see her flush with rage, even with all of her makeup on.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for the incompetence of others," The landlord says as she stares down her nose at me, "But do apologize for missing three months of rent, what exactly does that say about you as a tenant? I should kick you out right now."

"Please, miss, Franky and I were handling that I swear! I have a cheque filled out and ready for you, it's just upstairs in my apartment."

"Very well, take me to it." Her voice is so low and velvety, but she doesn't have to speak up to be heard. She sounds powerful and commanding, I can't help but look away as we make it to the stairwell.

"What is that terrible smell?" She asks as we climb to my floor.

"You don't know?" 

"I normally don't bother with my buildings in this end of town," She holds her nose and keeps her eyes forward.

"You probably don't want to know then."

She makes a sound and checks something on her clipboard as I push through the door to the second floor and we approach my apartment. I open the door and see a person dressed in black, the scavenger.

"Excuse me, do you have someone else living here with you?" Calloway says, "This is listed as a single occupancy, if there's another tenant I'm going to have to charge you more."

The scavenger stares at me, I can see Agnes' album in his hands. There's a drawn out moment of silence before the landlord clears her throat, "I believe I asked you a question?"

"Right, sorry, no," I shake my head, "I'm the only one who lives here."

"I just came to return this," The scavenger says, holding the book out to me.

"…Thanks," The familiar feeling of black velvet under my fingers exhilarates me. She's back, Agnes is back.

"I should get going," he says and I grab hold of his arm.

"Don't be silly, stay for a drink."

"I'll only be a moment," The landlord says as she looks down at the gold watch on her wrist, "Just here for rent, I have plenty of tenants to get to after this."

I grab hold of the cheque that's stuck to my fridge with the only magnet I own, a yellow sun with a fading smiley face. Still not letting go of the scavenger, I sign away all the credit I have to the woman who can't get enough of it.

She makes a satisfied sound and goes to leave, I close the door behind her and turn to the scavenger. I stare at him, his face is covered and I'm tempted to rip the scarf off, "What are you doing here?"

"I told you," He easily slips his arm free of my grasp, "I was returning the album, it's useless to me."

"Useless? What kind of use did you think it would have for you?"

"It's just pictures…" It was almost as if he wasn't listening to me.

"You could have just left it if that's what you were doing."

"What?"

"When I came in here it looked like you were waiting, sitting there at my table like you wanted to be caught."

He stares at me for a moment, then down at the album, "I've been watching you."

"Why?"

"You need to stop all this!" He gestures to the paintings and drawings of the man all over my walls. He picks up the piles of maps I've drawn myself that litter my kitchen table and drops them back down again, "This man is dangerous, the best thing you can do is leave him alone."

"I know he's dangerous," I mutter, "That's why I'm doing this, why do you even care?"

The scavenger crosses his arms and cocks his hip in a strangely feminine way, "You know I came in here every night after Agnes was murdered? Just trying to get that damn album from you, every night I noticed two things; you had more and more creepy art on your walls, and that damn book was never anywhere but clutched so tightly to your chest that it was impossible to get it free."

"Why did you want it so badly?"

"That's not my point, my point is you lost someone you loved and you're letting that ruin you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Every night for two months you had that album against your heart and dried tears on your cheeks, and every day you didn't do anything but obsess over the man who killed her."

"How is this any of your business?"

"She taught you to be a good person, she moulded you that way, and now you're letting that go to waste for what? You want to avenge her? You think that's what she wants? More death?"

"Why do you know so much about Agnes?"

"I told you, I'm an avid Murder Day observer."

"The only time Agnes ever celebrated was the night she died, watching an old lady die doesn't give you a window into her soul. All you possibly could have learned from her that night was that she was confused and shouldn't have been left alone."

"She didn't tell you much about herself did she?"

Before I can respond, my door slams open and I turn to see Calloway with her hands on her hips, "I just noticed something!" She says as she enters my apartment. She puts her things on my messy table and looks down at the cheque I handed her just moments ago, "This isn't enough."

"What?" I ask, even though I know what she's talking about.

"This is only enough for two months, you owe me for three."

"Uh…well…Franky kind of let one month slide…"

She cocks a brow at me and shakes her head, slipping the cheque back into her deep pocket, "Oh he did, did he?"

"I mean…it was just a one time thing, I was out of work and having a hard time."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that wasn't Franky's decision to make," She scans her clip board as she speaks to me, then looks up to make eye contact, "I'll make sure this is dealt with."

"How?"

She doesn't say anything, she turns to leave again, but glances over her shoulder, "You should really think about redecorating, this place is creepy."

As she leaves I look at the pictures of the man that plaster my walls and sigh, they really are a little creepy but for some reason it's comforting to know they're there. I turn to continue my conversation with the scavenger and realize he's gone. I spin around, glancing in each corner and even up to the ceiling but he's disappeared during the momentary distraction.