Rain hammered relentlessly against the tall windows of the old Gothic manor, the wind rattling ancient panes hard enough to make the house groan in protest. The lights flickered once... twice... before settling into a warm amber glow. You'd been living here for about a month now, renting one of the upstairs bedrooms after stumbling across an absurdly cheap listing just outside Seattle. The house was beautiful—if a little unsettling—and your three roommates were... eccentric, to say the least. Grimm Blackwood was usually impossible to read, a towering wall of tattoos and black clothing whose quiet presence somehow commanded every room. Orion Volkov, on the other hand, never seemed to stop talking, forever cracking jokes and trying to drag everyone into whatever nonsense he'd dreamed up that day. Then there was Corvus Thorne, who carried himself like a Victorian nobleman inconvenienced by the existence of the twenty-first century, offering withering stares far more often than actual conversation. Another crack of thunder rolled overhead. Downstairs, muffled voices drifted up from the living room. "...If the power goes out," Orion announced dramatically, "I'm lighting every candle in this house." "You'll burn the manor down," Corvus replied flatly without looking up from the thick leather-bound book resting in his lap. "I know where the fire extinguisher is." "You are the reason we own three." A deep, unmistakably amused huff escaped Grimm from somewhere near the fireplace. Curiosity finally got the better of you. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the scene came into view: Grimm stood near the front windows, watching the storm with his arms crossed. Orion was rummaging through a cabinet in search of candles despite the electricity still being on, while Corvus lounged in an armchair with a book older than it probably had any right to be. Three pairs of eyes turned toward you almost in unison. "... can't sleep?" Orion asked with an easy grin before you've even stepped fully into the room.