Ciro eyes cracked open slowly and his vision mostly consisted of shadows. It took a long moment for his vision to regain fully, and he stayed slumped against a cold, hard wall until he could see. There was a remarkable roaring pain on  the side of his head and when he brought his palm up to his temple, he found a sizable lump. He oriented himself and realized was on a cold, white, tiled floor. He recognized the place where he was lying as the piano room from before. 

He looked up, assessing his surroundings further. There was a person sitting at the piano. A girl, wearing an old, worn dress was gently brushing the keys with her fingers, not pushing them down, just quietly fingering the notes. On the roof of the piano was a metal ladle. A ladle that now had several dents. “Did you hit me with that again?!” he asked forcefully in perfect English, as he stood up.

“You do speak English!” the girl cried victoriously, not answering his question as he stood up and moved closer to her.

“You would have found that out much sooner if you didn’t hit me with that very effective improvised weap-”

“Do not speak unless spoken to!” the girl ordered standing as he came close and threatening him with the metal spoon. Ciro put his hands up, unintentionally encouraging her and she stepped closer to examine him. She was much shorter than him, and she had to jump onto her tippy toes in order to get a good look at his face. His stubble from not being able to shave the past few days caused her to raise an eyebrow. “Are you a pirate?”

“What? Do… Do I look like a pirate?”

“I’ve never seen a pirate…” the girl admitted. “Answer the question.”

“I am not a pirate,” he shook his head, not understanding the purpose.

“Aww.” the girl voiced her distress and quietly whispered mostly to herself, “I was really hoping you were a pirate.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but while we’re here, I have a few questions of my own.” He quickly ripped the ladle out of the girl’s grip and turned it so it was now facing her. She gasped at his betrayal and his humour was gone. Suddenly, Ciro, even with his mouth closed, blocking his fangs, looked very intimidating. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”

The girl froze now unarmed and looked at the metal weapon with fear. “I-I’m Cybil and- Wait a minute!” she yelled, feeling more confident suddenly, “Your house?! This is -my- house! You’re the one who all of a sudden showed up here and started traipsing around like you own the place! Who even are you?”

Ciro looked at her, unconvinced. Was she in a similar situation as him? Did she run away from society and found this old house? He could tell that she wasn’t a vampire, and she was nowhere near old enough to have lived in the house when it was made. He also knew that it wasn’t her house because he couldn’t ever if it was. His own vampiric blood prevented him from trespassing. He squinted his eyes at her. “Like I said before, I’m Ciro,”

“Ciro’s a stupid name,” she taunted, immaturely.

“You’re testing your luck, Cybil,” Ciro shook his head, “And here I was, going to offer you a deal.”

Cybil squinted her eyes at him and looked up at him with curiosity. “What’s your deal?”

“I will let you stay in my house, if you promise not to go through my stuff, and to never, ever, hit me with this or any kitchen utensil or appliance ever again,”

“What!? That’s so unfair! This is my house!” She yelled, and he threatened her with the ladle.

“This may have once been your house, but judging from your strange liking of pirates, I’m certain you’ll understand the term ‘commandeer’,” Ciro announced. “Accept my offer, or you will soon be ‘walking the plank’,” his eyes were sincere as he looked down at the girl.

She was silent with her arms crossed. Seeming to think of her options. “Ugh, fine! But I’m not happy about it! I’m going to complain a lot,” she yelled finally, her high pitched voice echoing throughout the room. Ciro put his free hand to his temple and sighed. He was already annoyed and she hadn’t even started her “a lot” of complaining yet.

“Wonderful,” he said, despite his annoyance. He wouldn’t be afraid to hurt Cybil if he needed to in order to take this house for himself, but the constant fear that he would become more of a monster than he already way lurked in the back of his mind. He did not wish to kill anymore than he already had, and he was grateful she agreed and he could take the pacifist route. “I have some rules,”

Her mouth gaped, “I know the rules to my house,”

“Fantastic,” he said sarcastically, “I’m very happy for you, however, now it is time for you to learn the rules for my house,” she pouted but didn’t argue. “As of right now, I have only one rule, and that is you stay clear of any of my possessions, brought with me. Those are completely, off-limits to you. If I ever catch you trying to open my box again, you will not live long enough to see what’s inside,”

Ciro considered this a formidable threat, and he nodded pridefully to himself. Cybil cocked her head, curiosity getting the better of her. “What’s in it?”

“That… is none of your concern,” he breathed forcefully.

“I won’t need to look inside if you tell me what’s inside,” She persuaded. Ciro briefly thought on her words. He squinted his eyes looking down at this small, strange lady.

“Do you want to know what’s inside?” he asked and she nodded in response. He smiled and whispered with clear sarcasm, “Pirate treasure,”