”Here we are!” The companion's voice put a period to the story she was telling herself. He stopped in front of the creepiest building he could've chosen in the entire city. Debris occupied the wide streets and structures fought to survive one more day, yet this place seemed intact; it even had an artificial feeling to it, vegetation seemed to have a preference to stay away.

”I could point out so many wrong things here,” she commented. The writer of stressful tales went back to work in Luna's mind.

”Lucky us, this isn't the annual competition of pointing out wrong things.” She rolled her eyes at what he thought was the funniest answer ever.

”There's no way to convince you, right?”

”That goes both ways,” he chuckled. In the presence of truth, the tall woman's mouth bore no rebuttals.

Once inside the biggest coffin in existence — the creepy building — it bore no proof of ever having sheltered humans or supernaturals. They found themselves in an empty cement box. No walls separating apartments, no remains of furniture. Only two giant holes: one connecting to the adjacent building, the other partially covered by an upper part of the street. Maybe it was a trap after all.

 

”Welcome to our new house,” the man revealed, expanding his arms into the ample nothingness.

”Our what?”

”It's safe to assume you noticed I was gone for a long time, yeah?” he changed the subject, but failed to change Luna's shocked expression.