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Clover is in the middle of getting ready for bed when they hear a strange tapping.
At first, they assume it’s nothing—just the wind and the tree outside their window. They get distracted easily, shuffling today’s laundry and a few stray socks into their hamper and thinking about something-or-other. It’s only when they sit down on their bed that they realize the tapping is still happening.
Curious—since when aren’t they curious, really—they decide to take a look. Maybe a branch snapped and was going to keep rhythmically tapping their window forever! Of course, they didn’t see any branches, but…
Clover unlatched the lock, lifting up the window panel.
Instead of a branch, or a bird or something else, a black figure suddenly gripped one of their arms, pulling itself through their window. Their heart jumped into their throat, mouth agape in a wordless gasp. Thick, viscous goo ran down their arm and they fell backwards in their attempt to get away.
Clovers mind ran with dozens of possibilities, mostly things like death and getting murdered, especially when a maniacal laugh ripped through their room. Hand quicker than a whip, they flicked their revolver from its place in their waistband and aimed true. Even the shaky breathing didn’t sway their aim.
The being, choking on laughter, suddenly halted. A startlingly familiar voice exhaled, more air than words, a curse. “Oh– oh shit–”
Clover watched, heart still racing but realization dawning, as the beings hand slipped, and they fell backwards; a hard thump signalling a harsh landing on the ground outside. A disgruntled, ‘owww,’ finally locked everything into place.
"Sh-Shoot– Chara!?" A gasp escapes them and their revolver drops from their hand with a clatter. Clover leans forward, loose hair framing their face as they squint through the window.
Beneath them, laying flat on their lawn, is Chara—usually kept hair sticking in every direction, and the remnants of inky black wisping from their cheeks. She lets out a pathetic groan.
Clover blinks, dawning horror visibly crossing their face. "Oh. Oh mah stars– a-are ya okay!?" Clover leans forward more, awkwardly swinging a leg over their windowsill. "Hold on–"
Chara groans again, sniffing. "I’m– yeah, yeah I’m fine." Red eyes blink open, though Clover doesn't see as they swing their other leg out of the window. A bare foot touches cold, dewy grass. "I probably deserved that."
A second foot touches down, ankle grazing Chara’s crumpled pant leg, and Clover scrunches up their face. "I mean... yeah. Maybe." They shake out their head, and realign their feet. "Ya really freaked me out."
Chara shifts below them, and Clover leans forward to offer them a hand. As their hands clasp together, Chara sighs out a flat; "sorry."
Clover shakes their head and pulls her to her feet. Now standing eye to eye, Clover feels the lasting jitters of such a scare roll over them. It’s on their next shaky exhale that they let out a short laugh.
“… Ya really got me, heh.” Chara rolls her eyes, bangs still crooked, and Clover lets out a very, very long sigh. “Well… since yer already here… wanna stay the night?”
Chara, seeming surprised for a moment, pauses. “… After I just had a gun pulled on me?”
“… Yes?”
A slight, fond smile breaks up Chara’s growing tension. “… Sure, cowpoke.”