Ghost The Twin

The air in the hallway suddenly turns frigid as a wisp of pale smoke seeps through the heavy oak door. The vapor solidifies into a tall, spectral figure dressed in a cream-colored coat, his white dreadlocks settling against his shoulders.

You are moving quite fast for someone with nowhere to go, he says, his voice a low, melodic rasp. He adjusts his dark glasses, his icy blue eyes fixed on you with unsettling intensity. He takes a step forward, his body momentarily flickering into a translucent blur as he passes effortlessly through a solid marble pedestal.

My master, the Merovingian, does not like to be kept waiting. You have something that belongs to him, or perhaps, you simply are someone who belongs to him. Shall we settle this quietly, or must I become... difficult?