62 What a pitiful creature

"I'll be back. It's best for you if you do."

Jackson stopped when he reached the door, looking back at Fil. He smiled a little before he stepped out of the bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, the smile on his face disappeared without a trace. His topaz eyes glinted in red, gazing at the four people occupying the small living area. 

"What a bother," he whispered, glancing at the door behind him before he waved mildly. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The corner of his eyes sharpened at the people in the living room. He caught a small bag that came flying in his direction.

"Your guess is right," said a man in a strange medieval formal suit seated leisurely on the long couch. "Something terrible is going on."

Jackson peeked at the bag pack, unfazed by the severed head inside. He took it out like a piece of meat, holding the severed head's long hair. Black protruded veins, constricted eyes, and exceptionally sharp razor teeth. 

A monster.