There was a word he was looking for, He could feel the shape of it, knocking about in his mind as he looked towards the building in front of him. It was a strange sensation for a Demon to be at a loss for words for this long.

"I want to say something, but I just can't place"

"Wonderful?" the small man asked, rubbing his hands together greedily. The Demon gave him a long glance.

"I would say..."

The Small little townhouse in front of the Ghoul and his human companion was a short, squat, and saggy two-story home with a layer of filth over its once whitewashed paint. Behind it, a brown, churlish river slunk by on its lazy currents. Lingering far longer than necessary or wanted.

"Pungent."

He was standing on the Marin St House, it was farther down the river than expected, and within sight of a massive building, cheerfully puffing smoke from its tall smokestacks. Spitting tar and putrid bitumen vapors, casting the smell of brimstone and smog across the skyline, combined with the smell of rot from unseen butcheries farther upriver from them. It was sickening.

He put a handkerchief to his mouth and coughed harshly, and gave a long bitter look.

"So, Do-do you like it? I can show you around if you like I can-"

"No, I think not."

"But, Please I can-"

The Demon kept driving on "Sir, I have seen enough. The smell is awful, The House in near collapsed and the lawn is sloping wet with river slurry, And wretched with the scent of Dead flesh. If anything could live here." He gave one last glance around " It's probably Worms."

And like that he left, the little man begging and pleading for him to return making ever increasingly ridiculous claims in a vain attempt to entice him.

By far the worst one he'd seen so far. And was now thoroughly disgusted to the point of nearly losing appetite.

He coughed again to clear his lungs of the sticky tar and kept walking till his nose was clear of the smog clouds and smokestacks.

The Handkerchief didn't leave his nose until he reached familiar landmarks where he knew the air was clear and breathable. He stopped and bought a sausage and roll, heaping with sauerkraut and happily gulping it down, despite today's abundant failure, he still had to eat.

He didn't think he could brave the next house but, with a meal inside him steadying his nerves.

"Oh well, It's not going anywhere. I should at least see it before coming to a decision. Let's See it, the address isn't very far."

He made his way out to Cobblers Square and found the new house quickly. Immediately he could tell this one was, different. It was by far the tallest of the houses, but also the thinnest. The current homeowner had died and left it to the clerks to figure out, some wanted to tear it down except for one problem.

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The house he was looking to buy, was almost crushed between two large brick houses, now converted into a small cafe and apothecary. Neither was taller than two stories, barely three. The former alleyway between them stretched beyond their small roofs by another story or more. Given its construction, it resembled a guard tower more than a house, or perhaps that was the idea.

He tilted his neck to the side, trying to spot some trick to the construction for such a narrow space. Half suspecting a trick of the light or some magician's clever machinations. But if there was one, he couldn't see it, at least not yet.

He walked towards the front door and saw the notice sealing the front door. He chuckled, briefly sidestepping it all together through a pair of unseen ebony curtains. Another useful trick, similar in function to the Vanishing Teacart.

He reemerged with a slight stumble, the main hall was closer than he'd predicted, he regained his footing and let himself adjust to the dim light.

The Hall was narrow, with no furniture, it only widened slightly to form a rectangular room, longer than wide, and covered in a sickly pale green wallpaper that was starting to rot on the walls.

There was a staircase to the right, a small space underneath for a closet. There was a door on the back wall, slightly to the left next to a dirty window. He opened it cautiously and pocked his head through, finding it leading into the back garden area. Which was more a surprise than anything else.

Closing the door and turning immediately to the right he faced the landing, a small half step raised above the ground floor. There he spotted an old black stove at the bottom of the stairs, its pipe chimney rising into the ceiling above him.

"Well," he paused. "It's not big enough to burn a body in, maybe the old man simply hit his head, or died in his sleep." he postulated, He glanced up the stairs and tried imagining the scene.

He let his arms mimic the movements of the falling body, cradling the spine cupping the head, watching it all in his mind's eyes as the imaginary mass collided with the wrought iron fixture at the bottom. He dropped his hands letting the pretend man fall away once more as he pondered what to do about it.

"Well, defensively speaking, it is a wonderful trap. Provided you don't fall for it yourself." he marked and gave a snuffed chuckle at the dry gallows jest. Perhaps a bit too dry. he thought.

Marching up the stairs, he found the room a bit more spacious, a smaller staircase pressed into the street-facing wall. Behind him, a panel of dirty windows gave a view of the garden space. which was surprisingly large, about the size of his old house if he was being honest. He could make use of that for sure, the room footprint was a bit awkward but not as bad as the base floor.

Checking the other floors, the third was the reverse of the second and the Fourth was a cramped sloped roof attic that angled the rain towards the street and not the garden. A bit foolish-looking, but better for the foundations in the long run.

There was no furniture currently, but that was to be somewhat expected, bad luck they say. He didn't care for that talk, he did need more furniture though. Something for later. When he could think of what would be practical for whichever house he chose. Although, It appeared there wasn't much choice in the matter. He would finalize his decision at the City Hall, as soon as possible.

And with the sound of curtains and a step into the shade, he found himself back on the street once more. Contemplating how best to create a new minor domain on this realty, so he wouldn't have to pay for a moving service. A simple afternoon's work.

He began to review his idea for drumming up income. He would need a pen, Several. And a proper workshop. Nothing he couldn't find or build himself.

He hummed to himself as the finer details wove like spiders silk in his head, while also counting up to a reasonable bid for this property. Not too high, he figured, he still had other expenses to come, A mere 1,200 should do, although it would most likely cost something closer to 20.

He shrugged, it would simply have to be. Besides, he make the money back soon enough. Then he could begin his plans against the Cat.

And it was a simple plan, inspired and requiring only minimal effort on his part. The Devil chuckled, Ohoho, The Cat was going to Hate it. He couldn't wait to tell him.

But first, A Proper Home to sleep in.