Your apartment was as you remembered it, small and slightly messy but it smelled like home and you relaxed as you tossed the keys on the table. You glanced at your companion, between the bandana covering the lower half of his face, and his eyes being partially hidden behind his black hair, it sure was hard to guess what he was thinking.
'Er, would you like some coffee or something?' you asked a bit hesitantly. Technically he was your kidnapper. Should you really be offering him drinks? 'There's coffee, tea, juice...' your voice trailed on as you opened the fridge.
'Coffee. Black,' came the short answer and you set the kettle to boil as Feitan left the kitchen to explore the main room.
When you joined him a few minutes later he was standing with his back to you, book in hand, studying the big dark painting hanging over your small sofa.
'You like it?' you asked as you handed him his cup, and took a small sip from your own.
'Yes,' he answered, pulling down the bandana so he could drink his coffee.
For a moment you both just stood there, watching the pale black haired girl sitting in a landscape of pale red amanitas, and the big spider with its human skull hanging in front of her. It was cute and creepy at the same time, like most of the art you were attracted to.
You left him contemplating the picture, located a big bag and started filling it with clothes, toiletries, and other small things you thought you might need. When you turned back to Feitan he had moved to your bookshelf and was running his finger along the spine of some of the books. He took one down and leisurely flipped through the illustrated pages, giving you a glance from behind his hair.
'You seem such light person. Soft. Still love darkness, yes?' he said it more like a statement than a question, and for some reason it made you blush.
'I suppose,' you mumbled, feeling even more embarrassed when you noticed that the book he was holding was one depicting methods of torture over the ages. It had been sitting there on the shelf, more or less forgotten, for years and you felt your cheeks grow redder with each page he turned. Seriously, what would he think of you?
But instead of looking appalled, he held it up, almost cheerfully.
'Might find idea. I can borrow?' he asked, and you nodded a bit surprised, as it smoothly disappeared into a pocket in his long coat.
Finally, your brain caught up with all the hints and you suddenly realized who he must be, and what role he played in the Troupe. Feitan had been watching your face and seemed to have read your mind, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards as he quickly closed in on you even as you asked,
'You're the interrogator, right? The one in the Phantom Troupe most people only mention in frightened whispers?'
His half-smile turned into a grin, and he stepped even closer to you. So close that you could smell the coffee on his breath when he answered,
'Yes, that me. You afraid now?'
'No, I probably should be, but I'm not,' you answered truthfully, and he looked a bit surprised at that.
He went back to the painting and you heard him mutter 'beautiful', before he turned back to you again, pointing at your bag.
'You done? Go back home now?'
Home? Home was right here, you thought, not that small room in the spider's lair, but you nodded anyway, you really didn't have any other choice. 'Let's go.'