“Hello, human,” the phantom feline articulated with a soulless timbre.

“Welcome to the dungeon of my black despair. It is here, among the shadows, where I birth my music. Every note meticulously crafted, every chord painstakingly arranged. I do not breathe of the air until I have respired life into every measure. Are you here to take my masterpieces to the surface?”

“Nah,” the human replied. “I’m just here to get a shirt.”

The Phantom stood motionless, quietly bemused.

“If I could fit a chandelier in this walk-in alcove,” she muttered under her breath, “I would sooooo drop it on you right now!”