And she was speaking to him. Now, Victor was not typically the type to have waited this long to speak, when in close proximity to a very pretty girl, but this was different. There was something about her that beckoned him, something that made him think he knew her, somehow, even though he knew that was not the case.
"It was in my apartment, weeks ago," he said, looking at her, curiously. He couldn't help it as his lips quirked up slightly. 'Very pretty' was quite the understatement -- the young woman was gorgeous. He ran a hand through his dirty blond locks, a habit he had.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired, unable to help himself. Of course, it wasn't the sort of question he heard every day, and indeed, because of the peculiar nature of the journal, he had all the more reason to be curious about anyone inquiring as to its origins.