Something is wrong, he should have noticed it from the beginning of this whole conversation. But he's far too distracted by what Giles is saying, the words he's heard before, almost lulling him into some kind of trance.

But instead of sinking into it he resists. Pulling back, with a glare at the wall, directed towards the hallucination that seems to have faded away. Giles goes for the knife and Pratt jerks back, refusing to give up control of a weapon. That had been so ground into him he'd probably die before loosening his grip.

"You're not. You're not who you say you are. And this..." He glances around, still seeing the Veteran's Center in some sort of ethereal red light and lack of physics. "This is wrong. The music is.... wrong."

He closes his eyes and sits back for a second. Humming what it should be and then snapping his eyes open again.

"This isn't happening." He shakily stands up, seeming to have forgotten Giles is even there anymore. He runs a hand through his hair, then suddenly jerks fully upright with a gasp at something through the far doorway.

Giles lives to see another day as Pratt turns and runs, knife clutched so tightly in his hand he's losing circulation to his fingers.