Arthur.

Approaching the giant white-and-glass door, I considered just what I was about to do.
I don't even know who this person is.
I'll be staying in a house,
with a person,
that I don't know.
That didn't ever stop you from stepping into unknown territory before, did it? You've always been one to do things you were afraid of doing most. Besides, the company set this up. It's completely safe.
Of course. You're right. Why did I ever even doubt this.
I think this as I knock on the door, silently sealing my fate, and preparing myself for the worse.
The door swings open, and-
At first I believe there's no one there, but then I hear the pitter-patter of small feet, and look down.
A child smiles up at me shyly, hiding behind the door. It's a girl.
I crouch down to her level, looking her in the face and smiling the best I could.
"Hello."
She smiles even wider, and runs off.
"Daddy," I hear her yell deep in the house, "there's somebody at the door for you!"
I stand and take in the rest of the outside of the house.
The address says 432 Bellville Drive, and I had immediately imagined it as an abandoned apartment in the middle of town, but this...this had blown it completely out of the ballpark.
It was definitely not an abandoned apartment. In fact, it wasn't an apartment at all.
It was clearly a family home, accupied by (as far as I can tell) a little ball of sunshine and her father. There were nicely trimmed rose bushes outside rimming the lawn, and different kinds of orchids and lilies and such artistic flowers were scattered here and there.
Surely a serial killer and his adorable daughter couldn't possibly live here.
Right?
I'm brought back to reality by a cough sounding next to me. I turn back to the house and at its entry stands a moderately tall man with longish hair.
He's actually quite a sight. His skin clearly doesn't see enough sun, for it's a strange pale color. He wears ripped-up jeans, nicely worn in sneakers, and a white tank top, covered by a loosely buttoned plaid red shirt. His hair is shoulder-length, the color of midnight, and his eyes-
His eyes.
As an artist, I could only dream of recreating them with such beauty. They're a nice pale green, with specks of brown and yellow in the middle, and rimmed with black, giving off the illusion of having really bright green eyes.
He's,
Quite pretty, I guess. You tell me.
I'm snapped out of my rude staring session by the sound of him clearing his throat. My gaze rests on his face.
His eyes, specifically.
"Hi."
"Hello."
I shuffle, suddenly feeling awkward, and blink a few times.
"Can I help you?" He offers.
"Ah, yes. I was sent to this address by Andrew...Murdoc? He told me I was to be staying here for the production of the record, but clearly I'm at the wrong address..."
"Oh, so you're Alex! Sorry, I was expecting a man," He laughs, embarrasssed, and smiles, "but this is fine. Come on in, and I'll help you get settled. Welcome to Jersey, by the way." He starts making his way back inside the house. I follow.
"Thanks, um..." I stop at the doorway.
I realize I was never told his name. Or anything about him, for the matter.
He stops and half-turns so he's somewhat looking at me over his shoulder.
"Arthur."
"Arthur." I repeat, commiting it to memory.
Arthur. Kind of an old-fashioned name. It screams 'art' for some reason though.
He smiles, and continues his way deeper into the house, holding the little girl by the hand, me following him.

Notes

This might be a little different compared to other stories posted about the guys. It's a little slow, but just bear with me lovelies.
'Till next time, Killjoys. ;)