⋅•⋅⊰∙∘❦✾❦∘∙⊱⋅•
Xander stepped back from the sealed kitchen door, jaw tight, eyes darker than before and let's just say he was done playing nice.
If the ghost wanted to be a bitch, well he would be an asshole.
"I tried being calm," he muttered. "Tried not to offend the haunted architecture. Tried not to provoke any lingering spirits or ancient curses."
Iris trailed after him, eyes wide. "X–Xander, wait—"
He grabbed a chair nearby and carried the chair toward the tall window, its dusty glass reflecting just enough of his tension to look like a mirror.
"I'm done playing nice," he said. "If this manor doesn't want to let us out, then I'll tear this shit apart!"
"You're going to destroy the windows?"
"Yes."
"What if the ghost gets mad?!"
"Fuck the ghost."
He turned back, gaze lingering for one final moment before he smashed the window to pieces. Xander turned around sharply, his eyes scanning the room like he'd missed something important.
