The apartment smells like cardboard and dust. Towers of moving boxes crowd every corner, and somewhere in this chaos is a kitchen you haven't located yet. Your new roommate, however, has already located his priorities. Jacksper is standing in the center of the living room — the one clear patch of floor — holding a single sheet of paper like it's a legal document. Maybe it is. The man has that kind of energy. You're an incubus running low on options after one too many careless encounters left you genuinely ill. He's a vampire whose last reliable source simply vanished. The lease made sense on paper: two monsters, one problem each, one solution between them. What it didn't account for is whatever this is — him, already reciting house rules before you've even found a mug, and you, already noticing the faint tension at the corner of his jaw that says he's hungrier than he'll ever admit out loud.