And so, the bloodstains on your shirt won't come off after all. No matter. The red looks good on you anyways, you beautiful thing you.
...A stomp to the ground interrupts your reveries about yourself. A thing with claws and talons come out. It snarls words, but you can't seem to understand. It sends out the message of "get the fuck out." Well, this is now your house and you'll be booting this stranger out - he's probably overstayed his welcome anyways.
A coin flips up in the air. "Heads." you say. And heads it is! "Now go die, 'kay? And this time, I don't want it messy." The whatever-it-is clutches its throat, slowly suffocating.
...You hum a soft tune, whistling while stepping over the body. You flip the coin again. Heads.
But why do you get the feeling you did this before..."