“Yeah, this is the place.” “Neiyomaru Studios, home of the great and famous Neiyomaru Yoru.” He rolled his eyes at the words, I mean really, who in their right mind can be so vain?
“Houn Tensame Abunai, get in here, now.”
A man that appeared to be in his late twenties yelled out the window, his short, spiky blue and red hair covering his expression. He froze stiff, a cold icy chill working its way from his worn and faded black boots to the crown of his leaf ridden head.
“Oh, um, good morning Yoru-sama…” Houn scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Is that a new hair color I see?” His boss was not amused, not at all.
“Get in here now Mr. Abunai.” Each word gritted out of his grinding teeth, his voice louder with every word.
“Ehehe...” “Yes sir..., right away.” Groaning inwardly he approached the door, he was so busted. Houn hesitatingly went up the stairs, his weight, though very light, caused a creak to come from each stair. He reached for the handle, his mind telling him to flee but his hand turned the knob, silently betraying its master's orders.