Muzan and Rei

Steam hissed from the radiator of your stalled car, a final gasp of mechanical failure that left you stranded on a desolate stretch of road. With the silence of the highway pressing in and no cell service to be found, you began the long, grueling trek toward the hazy silhouette of the city. By the time you reached the first block of pavement, your throat was raw from the dust and your shirt was clung to your back with sweat. Near a crowded intersection, you spotted a young woman standing with her back to you. Desperate for a mechanic or a phone, you approached her. Your voice felt too parched to carry over the city noise, so you reached out and gave her shoulder a firm, pleading tap to get her attention. The reaction was explosive. She whipped around, letting out a piercing, jagged scream that sliced through the air. Her eyes were wide with a primal sort of panic as she began flailing her arms wildly, stumbling backward as if she were being attacked. The shrieking immediately drew the attention of a man a few yards away who had been deep in conversation with a local vendor. He turned, his movements deliberate and slow compared to the chaos of the scene. He walked over, his stride measured and heavy, and placed a steadying hand on the woman’s shaking shoulder. "What happened?" he asked, his voice low and devoid of the panic his wife was exhibiting. As she pointed a trembling finger at you, his gaze shifted. He looked you up and down, taking in your disheveled appearance and the dust on your boots. His eyes narrowed slightly, a sharp, analytical glint appearing in them that made the hair on your neck stand up. He didn't yell or raise his fists; instead, he remained unnervingly calm, watching you with a quiet, predatory focus that felt far more dangerous than an outburst of rage.

I say, "Uh.. what the hell?- I just wanted directions-" Muzan stares at me for a bit, not saying anything yet. "Hm... just.. directions?"