the night is so dark that the shadows seem to ripple around the trees, a suffocating cloak billowing slightly in the winter breeze. the dark seems to wrap around him, too, filling his senses and leaving him slightly disoriented. then, a shriek — distant and ghostly, yet it nearly scares him out of his skin anyway. fuck! he flinches, hackles spiking, and turns, taking several steps back from what he believes is the direction of the sound. fuckin' fox. where's jean-pierre, anyway? he glances around as if the pale boy might emerge from the shadows at any moment, laughing and teasing him for being scared of the disembodied voice of some lesser beast. but he doesn't. valentine is alone, at least for now.