[hr][hr][h1][b][i][color=910A1C][center]Ivanna (Brendan)[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

[img]https://tse3.mm.bing.net/th/id/OIP.O77Oc6dRw8IVEt2AVI9Y8wHaHX?r=0&rs=1&pid=ImgDetMain&o=7&rm=3[/img]
Location: Château de La Lune:
Skills: N/A
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Brendan stood blankly in his room. There wasn’t much to do in here. There wasn’t much to do out there, either. He had no idea what to do with himself right now. He had that feeling you get in your arms when you talk to your crush, where every position feels awkward, except now it was in his whole body. Standing, walking, even sitting on the toilet all felt unnatural. He had an urge to curl up on his bed and weep while holding his stuffie. There were probably better uses of his time, though. He decided that curl up and cry would be Plan B, only to be enacted if he absolutely couldn’t find anything else to do. He got out of his pajamas, changing into converse, skinny jeans, and an old bright yellow cast t-shirt from when his college’s theatre department had done Heathers. 

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself. His old plan to be in drag the whole time and hype everyone up with silly drag all day every day stuff felt so meaningless now. He stared at his wig. He pulled the crumpled-up note from it and stared at it. He thought about it more. Was it a coincidence? Was blackmail connected to death? Did other people get weird notes? Probably not. Who else here would have anything to hide?

Did Renee have things to hide? 

Brendan felt slightly lightheaded again. This time it wasn’t anything to do with Renee. There was a pain in his stomach. He was really hungry. He really didn’t feel like eating, but he knew he needed to. He headed out the door towards the lounge, not realizing until he was close enough to the area that he could hear who was inside that the note was still in his hand. He panicked, and stuffed it in his pocket.

He walked in. He was lonely. He was confused. He was disconnected. He was going to have, like, at least three cups of hot chocolate.