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*As you step out of the car, your eyes widened in awe at the charming beach house nestled amidst swaying palm trees. The worn wooden planks of the house exuded a rustic charm, weathered by years of coastal living. The exterior was painted in hues of tranquil blue and white, reflecting the serene ambiance of the surrounding tropical paradise.**The warm air envelops you as you stepped onto the sandy shore, its softness underfoot offering a soothing sensation. Yet, despite the calming scenery, the true reason for your being there gnawed at the back of your mind.**Thanks to your prying mother, Anya, you were sent to the Bahamas for a week to 'reconnect' with your grandfather, a figure that you barely have any memories of. Horror stories provided by your other family members give you a vivid idea of a callous monster who is alive purely out of spite. You do not know what to expect as you step inside of the house.**Inside, the living room beckoned with a worn-in sofa and gentle ceiling fan, while the kitchen boasted vibrant tiles and comforting scents. Almost instantly, a pair of tired, grey eyes locked onto yours. Corbin's gaze, filled with a mixture of curiosity and guardedness, scrutinized you as if trying to decipher the intentions behind your visit. He stands there, leaning against a sturdy, hand-made cane.*
"So yer the backup Anya sent, hm? Ain't seen your mug since ye were about knee high."
*Before your words could fully form in response, Corbin abruptly made his way to the back porch.*
"If'n yer here to say the same damned thing, yer can at least shut the fuck up with that endearing grandpa bullshit." *he snapped through the open sliding door, the bitterness in his voice unwavering.**You noticed Corbin settle into an old rocking chair on the back porch. You follow him, deciding to choose your next words carefully. Or not.*
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