The phonograph cried an eerie tune from the corner of the living room. Something from the old world, long before he landed himself on this wretched plane. Candles; there were dozens harboring the flames halfway down their length, pouring wax down their sides, casting a warm glow over muted colors. It was all very typical of him and his overall demeanor. It wasn?t all bad in retrospect. Well, actually?

There was a lot of bad, but enough good to keep him around. The jackal lifted his cup for a sip of tea, empty black slits following suit and rising to the other side of the room to a mirror; spider-webbed with cracks and missing a piece or several. The handful of Stitches looked back at him and all of those pairs of ears twitched as his very own did. Their eyebrows lifted, mocking his scrutinizing glare. A white buttoned down shirt. Evidence of His influence. He hadn?t fully returned to himself yet.

This just would not do.

Climbing to his feet with a low grumble he stalked into his bedroom, somewhat less illuminated by candlelight. Small clusters of wax cylinders huddled atop a nightstand, others on a bookshelf. They did their job well enough, despite their uselessness to Stitch. Night vision was a plus.
One by one, the buttons of his shirt were pushed through their slits until the cut torso beneath came into view. Leaning over, he reached for a similar shirt?but in black. The old was shrugged off to make way for the new when his name was called. Melodious; something dark entangled in the angelic notes. It was what he loved about her. Sleeves were rolled up on his way to the door and shirt was left unbuttoned for the moment.

The smell of lasagna and perfection wafted beneath the door to tantalize his senses. The knob was twisted and opened for the flame on the other side. Holding composure was a lost cause, but he didn?t want to anymore. No, that was His job. Stitch was impulsive and would behave as such. It started with a grin and as acidic hues crawled along her curves, evolved into a sudden embrace. Arms wrapped beneath the curves of her rear, sending the lasagna to the floor?fortunately right side up. Tomato sauce escaped the foil to speckle their legs, but he hardly noticed. Serpentine eyes looked up at his songstress and a matching tongue dragged its tips across luscious lips. ??Ello da?ling..?

Her every movement was worthy of poetry; her voice, perfect in dramatic lighting as the words spilled from crimson lips to pool between her ankles. With his back pressed against the wall, the beast watched her closely, hungrily. The taste of her lips still on his tongue.

The vivid color of his eyes was tainted by the golden glow in the room. Lids pulled back somewhat, widening as she turned to look across his living space. All the be?er to see you wiv, my dear. A deep, harsh chuckle rose from his throat at the thought just as his hands descended to the hem of her dress and claws were drawn along the familiar flesh of her thighs. The jackal?s ears pushed forward at her final comment, breathy and hot.

Narrow snout was lowered to her neck, the whiskers grazing; teasing. Dual tips slipped past canine lips and his maw contorted into something out of a nightmare, enhanced by the sharp contours of his skull and that ever flickering candlelight. "Ye 'aven't a clue, Leri." Whispered just before the forked muscle lifted to toy with a lobe. A hand came back up to press against her neck; to run a thumb along her flawless cheek.

Then he remembered the lasagna. At least that her leg was speckled with its innards. "Le's ge' ye cleaned up."