If Agnes starts to refer to it as he, in her mind, no one would be too put off by it. That’s her job, after all. To watch the creature as closely as...humanly possible, to observe and convey each of its behavioral idiosyncrasies. For months and months, she has done so. Faithfully, to her best ability. Eventually, his mysterious, obsidian tentacles creeped into her dreams. There, she could feel them against her skin, so impossibly smooth and yet, hard, unyielding. Fuzzy memories of said dreams. One, or sometimes both, would sit a couple seats away and order their drinks. After a round or two they would saunter over to her in a way that only small town dwellers could and ask to buy her a round, or if their drink where particularly effective, proposition her to go home with her for the night. That is almost precisely what happened. After two beers the lab made his way over to her and offered to buy her another drink. She gave him a curt nod of approval and he waved the bartender over.. More

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