The evening air is cool, the path familiar beneath your feet. Leaves drift. Somewhere behind you, a twig snaps. You don't think anything of it. But silver hair catches the dying light between the trees, and a pair of red eyes track your every step with quiet, burning focus. He knows which route you'll take. He knows when you pause to check your phone. You've never seen him before. He feels like he's known you for years. Gilbert Beilschmidt has been watching you for weeks - memorizing you, wanting you. He has photos of you on his phone and small objects you’ve left behind that he uses for his desires.