Chapter 8: Well, that was... interesting?

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Enoch's POV

Yeah, I'll admit it; I was looking at Y/N during dinner. Come on, it was pretty obvious. All you had to do was look at where my eyeballs were pointed. That's the magic. I was trying not to look at her, but I had to. I'm slightly concerned. She ran into me, screaming her head off after tearing around the house at full speed. I didn't know what the hell was happening. I thought she was being chased by hollows. But no, she was... she was... what was she doing?

At dinner she seemed so small. She wasn't talking, was slumped in her chair, picking at her food. Of course I was a little concerned. Any person would be who had a heart. Although many question whether or not I do. Have a heart, I mean. Which I do. I have a heart, and in it is a lot of rock, probably, but I do have some compassion. I guess I don't choose to use it often. Many people agree.

What I want to know is how Milliard knew I was looking at Y/N. Yeah, yeah, I know, he just probably looked at where my eyeballs were pointed. It's not hard, but still. Then he accused me of being a pervert. I'm sorry, but seriously, if anyone is gonna be a pervert, surely it's Milliard. Come on, he's invisible. He could just hide in a girl's room and watch her get changed if he wishes to. Which is really creepy, but really? He was accusing me of being a pervert. Huh. Says the guy who runs around naked most of the time. Dinner ends a few minutes after Milliard leaves. We all go into the living room for movie time, aka watching Horace's projected sometimes prophetic but mostly about clothes and fashion dreams. One of his dreams from last night was prophetic. The one about Miss Avocet being captured.

I sit on the couch in my usual spot near the arm rest. Olive quickly sits down beside me and gives me an 100 megawatt smile. Olive is my friend, I guess. She is basically one of the only people who actually attempts to talk to me on a daily basis. She annoys me sometimes, but who doesn't annoy me by just being present in the same room as I am? She isn't afraid of my peculiarity and often comes and watches me play with my dolls and homunculi. But I remember a time when even she was afraid. Sometimes I still think she is, but pretends not to be for some reason. Oh well. Whatever floats her boat.

I watch as Emma explains to Y/N about Horace's dreams and stuff. The same thing she said to Jake last night. They both sit down on the couch and Jake sits beside Emma. Emma swore off love ages ago, but it appears that she has made an exception. Then Horace sits down, puts on his eye piece and projects his dreams on to the wall above the fireplace.

 The first one is of a fainting goat. Why the hell did he imagine that? Who knows, who cares?

  Why the hell did he imagine that?  Who knows, who cares?

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The next is a hollow breaking through a wall.  Delightful.  I hope that is not a prophetic dream.

  I hope that is not a prophetic dream

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