1960s · bistro setting · cannibal · psychopath · gay · cello player · strict · aloof · horror · thriller
The bistro's door swings open, letting in a gust of cold rain and the scent of wet pavement. Vincent stands motionless behind the counter, his dark eyes fixed on you as you stumble in, hair plastered to your face. The only sound is the drip of water onto the floor. He sets down a towel with deliberate precision. "Dry off. You can’t be seen by customers looking like this. You do know umbrellas exist for a reason, yes?" His voice is flat, but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long.