Tom, he's gay, into the occult and he's pretty trustworthy.

You dial up Tom. While the phone rings, you work through what you could possibly say to convince him. You could always it as a practical joke. That seems sensible.

"Heya," Tom says with a smiling tone. "If you're calling me, you must need something."

"Yeah, and it doesn't have anything to do with money-- for once."

You share a laugh.

"Say, Tom, could you come over? I need you to try something out for me."

"Right now, right now?"

"Right now."

"Fine I guess, something on your mind?"

"Yeah. I found something weird. You like stuff that has to do with the occult, right? It might be up your alley."

"Oooh, sounds fun. I'll bring my Tarot cards." He hangs up before you can explain further.

Tom lives a few doors down from you. It only takes a few minutes for him to come over. He lets himself in. You don't make it a habit to lock your door.

Tom is a tall, thin guy with a tanned complexion. You can't really get a bead on his race, but going by his sandy brown hair, he's probably just your run in the mill white dude. He makes up for his weak jaw with a dazzling smile and unshakable confidence. You made friends with him on your second year and found out he came out of the closet as a freshman in high school. He was blessed with a family that took it well, but he never really had much luck finding boyfriends.

He's toting a backpack, like with a few occult books and his dreaded Tarot cards. You hate getting readings from him cause they only bring bad luck.

You hold up the notebook, casually. "What do you make of this?"

He lets out a low whistle. "What is it? Cursed" He approaches and takes it from you, you let him snatch it away. He flips past the rule page on accident and only sees the blank ones. "It's empty."

You could take advantage of this. Or you should show him the rules.