If Pratt knew about Pickles' roommate he'd probably nerd the fuck out and want to know everything. Hell under other circumstances him and Pickles would likely be friends. But as the guy currently possessing Sharky's body any chance of that friendship has been snuffed out before it could begin.
"Come on, you can't hide now." Sighing as he shakes himself like a dog to get the rest of the glass out of himself, "I was hoping we could go run through the casino. Knock some machines over and get coins everywhere."
There's probably something to be said about Pratt's mental state here where he is enjoying the fuck out of this. This is the highest adrenaline rush he's gotten in months, and it's so damn easy to sink back into this. To just... let himself go.
"The longer this takes, the harder it's gonna be for me to ... stop. And I'm only after you. Only you." A pause, listening for the sound of breathing over the in-store music and various animatronics going off randomly. He doesn't hear footsteps, doesn't think he's still running anymore but he can't be sure with the fog and the dim lighting. "I'm doing exactly what I'd want someone to do to me. If I wasn't myself just...just fucking end it. Better for everyone. What I'd want Sharky to do for me. He wouldn't. He'd try and talk me down, but -- he should. Should have killed me when I first showed up here."
A look askance because that's some introspection he probably shouldn't have said out loud.
But then tubular bells comes on the in-store music system and Pratt absolutely loses his shit laughing. God that's thematic. Alright, back to the hunt. He's had his moment of explaining himself. Time to do a murder.
Pratt doesn't know where Pickles is so he just starts knocking over everything, 12-foot skeletons, sexy costumes, racks of plastic scythes, everything is coming down.
"Keep hiding and I'm gonna start throwing the fog machine liquid around and then shoot it with a taser and electrify you out of there. I can promise you it won't be fun."
no subject
"Come on, you can't hide now." Sighing as he shakes himself like a dog to get the rest of the glass out of himself, "I was hoping we could go run through the casino. Knock some machines over and get coins everywhere."
There's probably something to be said about Pratt's mental state here where he is enjoying the fuck out of this. This is the highest adrenaline rush he's gotten in months, and it's so damn easy to sink back into this. To just... let himself go.
"The longer this takes, the harder it's gonna be for me to ... stop. And I'm only after you. Only you." A pause, listening for the sound of breathing over the in-store music and various animatronics going off randomly. He doesn't hear footsteps, doesn't think he's still running anymore but he can't be sure with the fog and the dim lighting. "I'm doing exactly what I'd want someone to do to me. If I wasn't myself just...just fucking end it. Better for everyone. What I'd want Sharky to do for me. He wouldn't. He'd try and talk me down, but -- he should. Should have killed me when I first showed up here."
A look askance because that's some introspection he probably shouldn't have said out loud.
But then tubular bells comes on the in-store music system and Pratt absolutely loses his shit laughing. God that's thematic. Alright, back to the hunt. He's had his moment of explaining himself. Time to do a murder.
Pratt doesn't know where Pickles is so he just starts knocking over everything, 12-foot skeletons, sexy costumes, racks of plastic scythes, everything is coming down.
"Keep hiding and I'm gonna start throwing the fog machine liquid around and then shoot it with a taser and electrify you out of there. I can promise you it won't be fun."