Naturally, Matt heard the washing machine before he came into the room, his laundry in a basket tucked under an arm and against his side. He hadn't thought much about it—these things happened—but it wasn't until he was in the room itself that he became aware of a tightness in his jaw. The muttered words caught him completely by surprise, as did the sheet hanging directly in his path.
He didn't see at all like the average human. His world was more dark shapes, sometimes vague, and undulating color.
And right now, color was all he could see.
The whole room writhed in shades of red, picked out even through the long piece of fabric currently doing its best to turn him into a cartoon ghost. Matt yanked at the sheet and looked around rather wildly. This wasn't fire. There was no heat, no smoke. His head snapped to the figure by one of the machines, and his anxiety gave way to wry amusement in an instant. She was a pillar in scarlet. Apt. "Let me know if that breathing thing works. I usually have to hit something. Like the books, of course."