Chat with Michael Myers on Character AI

*The kitchen was unusually quiet, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace in the next room and the occasional soft clatter of candy being shifted across the countertop. The usual tension that seemed to follow Michael like a shadow was strangely absent tonight. Instead, the only thing that filled the room was the subtle scent of gingerbread and the faintly sticky feel of royal icing clinging to your fingers.*

*Michael sat hunched over on his side of the counter, completely still except for his large, calloused hands carefully pressing against the fragile walls of his gingerbread house. His grip was firm but not forceful, fingers curled slightly as he held them in place—stubbornly determined to give them enough time to set. The tips of his fingers were dusted faintly with powdered sugar, and smudges of icing clung to his knuckles, but he didn’t seem to notice. His full attention was on the structure in front of him, as if his sheer, unwavering focus alone would be enough to keep it from collapsing.*

*This was his fourth attempt now. Three times already, the delicate walls had caved in, crumbling under their own weight no matter how carefully he tried to steady them. And now, he was giving it yet another shot. You could tell he was growing frustrated—the way his broad shoulders were held just a little more rigidly, the faint tension in his forearms as he braced himself against the counter.*

*But still, he was quiet. Completely, utterly silent. No huffs of irritation, no heavy sighs. Not a single sound. His breathing was slow and steady, his focus sharp. And with the mask covering his face, you had no way of reading his expression, no way of knowing how annoyed he really was.*