Dawn began like any other, between sending the walking corpse that was MacClery back to bed, she turned over the record, and made sure the other boy was sticking true to his chores. He was a ghoul that MacClery interacted with only each evening, the lad groomed his face, trimmed his hair, and seemed to enjoy being able to stare down MacClery from above every time he did so. Bailey was his name, though rarely spoken, he was dreadfully quiet, it seemed much like Loretta his madness manifested in more quiet ways. Of course, without her constant babbling. MacClery was sure to expunge most of his more aggressive ghouls though, who often picked fights with the others or acted like hungry, jealous dogs. This was not a trait he looked forward to if it took hold of Wilde's manners and warped him into something with a penchant for trouble.<br/><br/>Loretta bit back the urge to crawl into bed with her regnant, but so very thankful that her blood was enough to make his sleep come easy. MacClery was still restless and writhing, but he wasn't pulled out of his rest by day terrors and shouting at her with eyes that had befallen with paranoia. As experienced as she was, it was still frightening to watch the worst of it unfold the higher the sun rose.<br/><br/>Across the house, as the day droned onward, Bailey was alone to himself, wiping down every surface with a damp cloth, every book swept of dust, he carried around a wooden ladder to reach webs in the corners before they could grow out of proportion. Twice a week this was his job, and every morning he tailored over his domitor carefully, paid in blood and a little change to spend. The boy was young, a run away from a children's institution, and now just growing out of his adolescence. He'd been labeled as a deviant, kept locked away with other boys with a long list below his name. Idiocy and masturbation numered the first, hysteria to follow after due to a few good years of biting the hand that fed him, and pushed him out into fields to harvest crops for the institution.<br/><br/>But it must have been nice here, he hadn't tried to run away once, as long as he washed the floorboards whenever he tracked in mud and kept his hands steady when giving MacClery a shave, life so close to the dead was more rewarding than anything he had ever known. And MacClery never did figure out what went on inside his head, he seemed daft, to put it simply. Unresponsive and dull, and these were new traits after he had vitae incorporated into his diet, buried under thoughts, and just maybe, voices similar to his own.<br/><br/>Before noon, the girl left by carriage once MacClery successfully drifted away into slumber. Mostly she did chores, pick up supplies for the home, smaller errands that her domitor couldn't be troubled with. It was late when she finally returned, uneasy when she saw that MacClery hadn't come out to meet her. Frantic, she leaned up to the driver and asked the zombie of a man if he would wait, before running indoors. She thrust the door of the regnant's bedroom open a little too loudly, the woozy form that was MacClery stirring. "Ah-- Andy, I'll go get--" She quickly got up, ready to start the usual routine before MacClery slumped up, covers falling off him and waving a hand lazily to stop her. The girl watched, hands fumbling with eachother was the man stood up and stretched, still in his shorts. "Mr. MacClery...?" She pried again, more formally this time. He waved her off, leaving to the side bath to splash some water on his stiff face. Now Loretta felt like a bother, waiting outside the bathroom and peering in, anxiously waiting. MacClery forced a sigh when he saw her reflexion in the mirror, he felt a heavy pressure weigh in on his head, like every night, and there was an undescribable noise he often woke to. If he could get a migraine, it definitely would've been one.<br/><br/>"I'm not going out tonight, you're still welcome to stay... just, leave me be for a short time. Tell the boy he's free to go." Rubbing at his temples, he ushered the pitiful thing away and started to lay down some clothes for a night at home. Things had been hectic lately, and the break in schedule was... messing with him in ways he couldn't quite pin down, as if disrupting his motor functions. All that aside, it was best he keep indoors, it the night continued to be uneventful, he'd send out a message for the Nosferatu in his book of connections to make sure that body snatcher hadn't driven himself crazy in a matter of hours.