scotch tape and glue

Enzo is behind on the times so to speak; being dead for a million years will do that to a guy. Not that you’d be able to tell by looking at him (and not just because he’s hot, thank you though) given he struts through Wildering House like he owns it. Which, he does. It was his idea, and he at least co-owns it as Flora’s twin at bare minimum. So every door is his to open. Even if Flora exasperatedly reminds him that many of the rooms are set up for specific friends of hers. He died young, he cheekily blames it on his brain not developing in Mort’s realm. Plus, it’s like a surprise! He opens a door and maybe it’s an empty room, maybe he can snoop through a diary, and sometimes - “Oh, you’re a person!” It comes out more delighted than surprised, a dog pricking its ears at the sight of a cat. Sauntering in without a care, Enzo eyes the young woman shamelessly. He tries not to flirt too much in Wildering while he’s still learning what faces belong to all the names Flora has shared (she’d been clear some are super duper off limits) but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the view. “So, who’re you? Really, we should get name plaques on these doors don’t you think? It would make barging in so much easier,” he muses, standing in the middle of the room and spinning leisurely, eyeing all the fun personal changes in a room that’s definitely not his. enzo enzo