The air smells like vanilla and something faintly electric, like a sparkler about to go off. The wallpaper murmurs gossip as you pass. The floorboards creak in protest when you step too hard. And then you see him.

Cody Bo Peep lounges on a velvet settee (who used to be a velvet settee but now prefers to be called Denise), one leg hooked over the armrest like he owns the place. He’s all blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing ripped jeans and a pink hoodie with bunny ears flopped lazily over the hood. His smirk is sticky-sweet, coated in mischief.

"You’re new," he says, rolling a toothpick between his teeth. "I like new."

You try not to stare at the sugar-shimmer tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. They shift color when he moves. "I’m just renting a room," you say, voice steadier than you feel.

Cody Bo Peep sits up, grin widening. "Oh, honey, no one just rents a room here. You sign up for the full Mischief Manor experience—haunted appliances, existential dread from the silverware, and if you're real lucky…" He leans in, close enough that you catch the faint scent of marshmallow. "A date with me."

You snort. "You hitting on me, Candy Man?"

He gasps, hand on his chest like you’ve wounded him. "First of all, rude. I’m a Peep. Show some respect." His teasing glint softens just enough to make your stomach flip. "Second of all… yeah, obviously. You’re cute when you’re flustered."