Screech was a domovoi, which as far as Penny could tell was supposed be some kind of useful household hobgoblin. He never actually did anything particularly useful that Penny could see, but at least he didn’t chew on her pencils the way he had done when he’d first turned up. He had however taken up residence at the back of the linen closet, making an odd sort of nest out of the forgotten towels right at the back. He decorated in with old sweet wrappers and acorns, and dusty slippers that didn’t seem to belong to anybody in the flat.
Penny tried to ask him why the linen closet of all places, wondering if this was a polite sort of question to ask a domovoi. She didn't particularly want to land a hundred years of back luck on her head.
The creature just stared at her out of beady brown eyes, twitching his pointy ears. “Because it’s the best place, Miss.” He indicated the acorns, as though he thought it all pretty self-explanatory.
“Well, if it is,” Penny said, with a shrug, deciding to leave it at that, because she hadn’t the faintest hope of understanding hobgoblins, no matter their subspecies.