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[curiously]

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( cw: body horror, gore, violence & etc. in some threads + please label threads for such. )

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[throughtheribs]

[ There's a second of silence, and then he laughs. It's partly real, and sounds real enough. It's not a bad guess, and from her smile she probably didn't mean it seriously. The recorder keeps moving in his hand. ]

Wouldn't have been a bad pick, but I was never really cut out for government work. Besides, they track their employees a little too closely. All that felony mail tampering probably would have gotten me caught.

[ He leans back on his heels a little, watching the way she handles his knife. ]

Next guess?

[curiously]

[ another hum leaves her throat, once again tapping her nails on the blade as she thinks — what other careers give him enough freedom to have a desk, connecting with people, and being able to murder people for a certain amount of time? already she traces back through past memories of their trials together.

the ghost face, in zarina's experience, is: a stalker that studies his enemies to the point of being able to take them down with a single, precise strike. ]

You enjoy people watching. [ hmm. ] A job that's everywhere in the world. You own a camera. And the way you wanted my recorder...

[ many jobs require a recorder and a camera, but both at the same time? ]

Photographer? [ wait. ] Journalist?

[throughtheribs]

[ Danny's silent as she works her way through the options, listening to her appraisal. His ego won't let him interrupt her - she's not being insulting, after all, which means why shouldn't he let her talk? There's no danger in letting her work some of his life out here. The consequences are virtually nonexistent.

Under the mask, a thin smile grows into a smirk as she lands on the hobby and then the job, pulling the right answer out easily. Then again, they're in similar lines of work, aren't they? She didn't have far to jump. ]

Exactly. Photography was a hobby, but journalism was ... well. I'm not going to say a passion, but it was definitely a talent, and why not do what I'm good at?

[ Killing being the real passion and the real talent. His posture shifts, more casual now, almost relaxed, if he was ever really relaxed. The straps on his coat drift lazily, curling behind his back. ]

Every newspaper that hired me was so glad to have me on board. And in the end, I'm not sure they all regretted it. I was good at boosting sales.

[curiously]

[ a journalist that gets to write his own stories for whatever city he currently resides at. or wherever he travels — "Every newspaper that hired me" — to find a new target. maybe if she researched about the ghost face when she was younger then she would have found a trail of where he goes. that is, of course, if she had the same skill set she had at present.

there's only one murderer she had her eyes set on the first time before finding out about hellshire's secrets. the ghost face hadn't been on her list before. still isn't, but that doesn't mean she isn't interested in learning more about him especially when she has an audience.

so far so good. ]

Depends on what kind of person your bosses were. Good people who want the truth out, or greedy people who only fishes for headlines in the end no matter what the cost — where did you work at the longest?

[ a location is always a good start. ]

And ever worked on pieces that weren't about you?

[throughtheribs]

[ What does she know, he wonders? Did she hear anything growing up? He knows that he's out of time from the rest of them - though that's the case for nearly every killer - so they're distant enough, but most of the survivors should have at least been alive when he was active. And some of them had to have heard about his activities, even if he wasn't Ghost Face back then.

Zarina likes her murderers, or at least she likes to learn about them. She must know something ... or maybe this is her one opportunity to learn all about one from the best source there is. ]

They were running a newspaper. The bottom line was the bottom line. [ He pauses at her question, tilts his head a little as he considers it. ] I can't say there was anywhere that lasted significantly longer than the others. A year tended to be the longest I stayed in any one place. Philadelphia had the longest time I was active, though.

[ Big cities have better cops, but so many more places to hide - and so many more newspapers. ]

As for the work, of course. You don't start out at a place picking up the headlines. I'd do whatever they needed me for. Made a reputation for myself as diligent and timely. That's when they hand you the reins to the murders.

[curiously]

[ despite not being completely assured that everything the ghost face says is the truth, it's interesting with what he could think of if they are several lies delicately sewn together. if it is the truth however... well, it's still interesting. the way he seems to get away from his previous work places before people find him to be suspicious, zarina thinks to herself while imagining the way he worked.

the man in front of her is a journalist who publishes his crimes in the newspaper. starting small until reaching his own works (and others, right?) with a certain amount of detail. he's done this in several cities, she assumes — killing is what he loves to do after all. working on articles about himself can be both damage control and earning a moment in the spotlight.

zarina's career gives her the opportunity to meet various people in life. politicians, criminals, citizens who have troubling experiences — and everyone is a unique individual. that includes the survivors she meets at the campfire after every trial, and the killers who hide behind their weapon of choice.

some hide behind anger and hatred. others hide behind a mystery. it's the reason she says: ]

What name did you go with when your articles get published? [ her forefinger and thumb pinch the flat side of the blade between her fingers. ] And did you have a favorite article out of all of them? Did you make "friends" at work?

[ the way she says friends is as though the word itself is a joke. ghost face, with actual friends? impossible. ]

[throughtheribs]

[ The questions come at him without much in the way of a response to his other replies, and while some part of him relishes the attention, the curiosity, the focus, the rest of him is a little more wary. Danny watches Zarina, the way her eyes are fixed on him and her fingers keep fiddling with his knife, and considers whether he should answer or not.

He's silent a few long seconds before he speaks, a little curiosity bordering his own tone. ]

That's a lot of questions all at once. Been a while since you've had an interview, hasn't it? [ Not quite sarcastic, but maybe a little sardonic. ] And a little bit prying, too. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself first, and then we can get back to laying out all my crimes in fine detail?

[ A trade. Something he's gotten into the habit of around here. There's no harm in handing out details of his life as a killer, and occasionally something about him personally, as long as he's going to get something worthwhile in return. He can't exactly rifle through their lives here. They don't have homes; he's barred from the campfire; their conversations are often distant, muted, and cut short, especially in a trial.

There's only so many ways to learn about them, but if they're willing to tell him themselves, he'll take as much as he can get. And Zarina, the documentarian and seeker of truth and justice, is fascinating in her own right. ]

[curiously]

[ a soft sigh leaves past her lips, eyebrows knitting together; her mistake realized as eyes shift to the side with thoughts in mind before they return back to the masked murderer. it's been a long, long while since she's interviewed anyone outside the entity's realm. traversing from new york to nevada gives her people to speak to, but not a genuine one on one interview. even the interview she does obtain in the entity's realm gets readjusted into a talk between people.

like what my favorite color is? comes to mind briefly, but already zarina knows that isn't the kind of details he would want. not when she understands the desire to know the truth, to look beneath pebbles for missed out information that can be the answer to a thousand questions she has in the back of her mind.

it takes exactly six seconds for her to answer back. ]

I used to go into part time photography, but my main work is film. [ the very camera she uses during that time is back in the campfire, after all. ] Didn't work at any publication, just myself. I started my own site and gained a following over a couple of years.

[ they're not exactly details, but then the ghost face never asked for anything specific in the first place. now she wonders if he'll demand more or answer her questions. ]

[throughtheribs]

[ Zarina hesitates before speaking. He hears her sigh, sees the look that flits across her face, and knows she's not happy about having to give up anything to hear about him ... but she does it, because she's an intelligent woman who knows you can't get something for nothing.

He was expecting an agreement and then an opportunity to ask a question; instead she hands over information of her own will. Nothing particularly interesting, but valuable all the same. Anything is valuable to him. Anything can lead to a vital weakness, a place to slip a metaphorical (or physical) knife. That being said, she's a photographer too, is she? ]

So we have a few more things in common. [ Said in almost a friendly way, to better get under her skin if he can. After all, nobody likes having things in common with a murderer, much less him. ] It's always a nice way to spend time, isn't it? Finding the right angle, the right lighting, the right subject matter ... getting a perfect shot.

[ Danny'd never bothered with publishing any of his photography either, even the more socially acceptable pictures. It was a hobby, after all. Just something to while away the time between work, sleep, and murder. He thinks back over her questions, debates answers with himself for a few seconds before replying. ]

I don't know about favorite, but my big reveal in Roseville was a top-notch piece of work. Informative and terrifying. The security camera picture I got for it was better quality than I expected, too. [ Leave it to him to list his own article as a favorite. ] Work friends are work friends. Casual acquaintances at best. But, yes, they did consider me enough of a friend sometimes. Did you make many friends dragging up ugly truths with your documentaries?

[ Notably, he ignores the question about his publication name. Even fake as it was, it's staying under wraps - until he can trade it for something really useful. ]

[curiously]

[ red lips purse together for three seconds at the thought of having anything in common with the ghost face. though he's not the first one from the other side that zarina finds out that she certain similarities and experiences with, he's most certainly the one she wanted the least with — not with what she views as sadism with the way the life fades from her body upon being blinded by the flash of a camera.

a journalist who uncovers details with both their words and actions, one where they work and work and work until their article is published and viewed by the world — goddamn it. a description not only for ghost face, but for zarina word to word.

as if she would say it out loud. ]

I've made friends with other filmmakers. [ a slight shrug. it's not a lie, but certainly an answer to his question. ] And I got to meet plenty of other people from various places because of my work. Not exactly close friends, but it's the same as you: Casual acquaintances at best.

[ now, because she knows when a question doesn't get answered through much experience: ]

What name did you go by before?

[throughtheribs]

[ The comparisons annoy her, he can tell. He can only hope they do more than annoy in the long run - that they appall, offend, disgust, because that'll be something he can use against her later on, whether they're in a trial or not. It's not such a negative thing for him; her work was probably fine. Just not on par with his, and with very different perspectives, even if the subject matter was similar.

She's almost as good as he is at deflecting, he thinks, and also knows when an unanswered question was deliberately not answered. Possibly she can't take a hint, though in fairness he didn't really hint at anything. He looks at her, head tilted slightly, the straps on his coat floating idly in the air behind him. ]

That's a loaded question, don't you think? [ Loaded with implications, suggestions, questions within questions. She's asking for a name that won't lead back to him directly, but it is still him. And he'd like to keep that hidden for as long as he can. Until he can wring something really worthwhile out of her, or at least build a false trust between them. ] People did start attaching blame to that name, after all. Once they started putting the puzzle pieces together. If you ever got out of here, you might even be able to follow my path.

[ He's silent for a second, fingers resting on her digital recorder lightly. ]

If you want a name, Zarina, you're going to have to give me a very good reason to hand it over.

[curiously]

[ "A very good reason" — already she supposes general curiosity isn't the answer to it. on one hand, the man wears a mask for a reason — a complete attire that covers every inch of him without revealing anything human beneath dark leather. of course he wants to remain a mystery, even here in a world where fame doesn't matter like death at this point. the closest thing to fame, she believes, is the way survivors would talk about how frustrating certain killers are or how frightening they can be.

the hag, for example, is one who never fails to have everyone's hearts running when she appears with a scream or from out of nowhere. zarina learns how to use a flashlight proper after several trials with the witch. there's also the oni — the only killer where her healing touch benefits both the survivor and the killer, she realizes after her first trial.

and then there are the likes of the hillbilly and the twins that makes her wonder what hurt them to end up the way they are. a sentiment she doesn't think of when the ghost face comes to mind.

what comes up first is, "What's wrong with him?"

zarina lets the back of a well-manicured nail run against the smooth, blunt end of the tactical knife in hand. ]

You know mine. I don't know yours yet. [ yet is the important word. ] It's fair that way — unless you don't mind me calling you something like John or Brad. Maybe Nigel.

[ or joe? she thinks to herself for a moment. ]

What's the price of a name?

[throughtheribs]

[ Danny would like to believe that he's a central figure of terror around the campfire. He doesn't quite have Michael's silent, looming horror, but he has his own way of causing fear. Of not being seen until his knife is already in their back. Of watching them so close at hand, lunging out when they finally realize he's there just a little too late. Of knowing way, way more than he should about them, things that the other killers would never care about.

Of being an intruder on even these unholy grounds, showing up without warning and making old familiar haunts into new, terrifying places to die.

Though Zarina never had to deal with that, so he's willing to believe that he doesn't scare her quite the same way he scares the others. Still, if he ever really found out and believed that they didn't dread him the way they dread some of the others, it'd be more than a little infuriating.

The straps on his coat shift and flick with her choices of names and suggestion of fairness. He tilts his head a little further to watch her. ]

There's nothing fair about this place, Zarina. [ Dull, average, everyday names ... which aren't that far off the mark, actually. ] The price is a secret. Something you wouldn't easily tell someone else, even your friends at the campfire. You'd be the only one among the survivors to know my name, after all. Even some of the killers don't know it.

[ Though that's generally because they don't care, but he doesn't say that. ]

Or, if you don't want to share something personal, you could always tell me a secret someone else has told you. I'm not picky.

[ But he gets the feeling that won't happen. For the most part, the group around the campfire are a fiercely loyal and self-sacrificing bunch; turning on each other is the last thing they'll do, even if it costs them. ]

[curiously]

[ a secret for a secret. an unfair world. familiar; it's one of the many paths to the truth that zarina journeys throughout not just her career, but her life with how much it forces her to struggle until she reaches her goal. dealing with unsavory folk like the ghost face isn't new to her the slightest, only the situation where she's the prey to the predator that wields a knife in hand.

someone else's secret is out of the question. she knows several from back home and some that she discovers through conversation and by accident while in the entity's realm, but they're not hers to give away. especially the ones that are shared by the people that trust her, the people she considers as friends — which would mean, in the end, that zarina will have to trade in her own secrets to the ghost face.

several come to mind that she already vehemently refuses to tell him. the secrets that pain her heart just by its mere memory and the secrets that forces her teeth to grind down together least she reveals a pleasant smile. the ghost face is the last person in the fog that she's certain never to tell those, but what else can she offer? ]

Well... [ a thoughtful hum leaves her throat after the ghost face speaks. ] When I was young, there was a restaurant that was exploiting its workers by refusing to pay up despite their work. It was one of my first real undercover work. New hair, new voice, new person that isn't me. The owner thought I was from another state with how different I looked. Worst boss I ever had.

[ a soft chuckle to herself before she looks back towards the masked killer. ]

I was fired after three weeks after asking where my pay was. Edited the clips, released it, and it was a hit... but not in the way I intended it to be. [ a slow shake of her head, lips pursing together for the briefest of moments. ] The news skewed the truth and the owner, and so he got away scot-free without reprise. Hated it, but that's why I work for myself now.

[ there's no need to reveal how truly upset she had been during that time — even though the look on her face reveals part of it — and bitter, and embarrassed. this is just a trade, not a conversation between friends or co-workers. ]

I haven't told anyone at the campfire about this. So, it should count as a secret.

[throughtheribs]

[ Unsurprisingly, she opts to tell him a secret of her own. Danny watches her intently, totally unmoving except for the floating straps, and listens to every word. Every shift in her tone, every choice of word, every pause, every moment of hesitation that might hint at a lie or at a real truth hiding underneath the rest. Or just her not wanting to impart any information to him.

It's not a particularly interesting secret, in all honesty. A part of him seethes with the rage at her trying to use his own words against him, but it's a small part, one he can settle down without so much as a twitch. A shitty job? Trying to unveil a corrupt small-time business owner? That's the sort of thing that would show up in the human interest section of a newspaper, except that ...

... ah, and that's why it's a secret: because she didn't win. It wasn't a noble victory over tyranny, even minor, it was a blatant fuckup. The intrigue curls like a snake in his mind, testing the air for any real regret over telling him. Probably not - the others around the campfire would be sympathetic, and tell her she couldn't win them all, that trying was what mattered. But if he and Zarina really are alike, then she'll never tell them just because of pride. ]

The deal was something you wouldn't ever tell them, not just hadn't yet. [ His tone stays as light and casual as ever. ] But I get the feeling you probably wouldn't share that one. Hard to admit to a failure that impressive.

[ Not that he's ever done that, or so he'd like to tell himself. He shifts, body coming to life again instead of being a rigid statue in the darkness of the wrecking yard, and moves her recorder to his other hand. ]

Making someone like that look better must have really stung, huh? [ And that's not a particularly friendly tone of voice, but it drops a second later. ] You can call me Jed. Jed Olsen.

[ She'll know it's not his real name, unless she thinks he never had to hide himself and shed an identity or two. But it's not a lie, and it is a name, and in the interest of keeping things like this going he's willing to impart a little information even if he thinks she techincally cheated their agreement. ]

I hope you know well enough to keep that to yourself.

[curiously]

Jed...

[ practice on her tongue; jed olsen. a name that doesn't bring out any other reaction from zarina's face beyond intrigue. it's a name she doesn't recognize — his articles are in another city, another time where she has yet to find her true passion of filming just yet. it doesn't mean she won't research it herself once she — once they all go home after enduring hell for god knows how long.

her mental notes consist of: philadelphia. start with the top ten news outlets then go down from there. ]

We're both professionals. [ despite her quick questions previously, but she can put the blame on not being able to interview much people in the realm aside from one, and now jed. ] I know when to stay discreet.

[ she has to be discreet with the knowledge in her mind least others taken it for their own use. against her, against other survivors, other killers — it would be some sort of revenge against them, but that's not the kind of person she is. even when she had the single opportunity of trying to kill clark stevenson, she doesn't do it. instead, she makes sure the man stays behind bars for life.

being a murderer isn't who she is despite the anger she still keeps inside in the back of her heart, hidden away from the view of anyone getting to know her. most especially when it comes to the ghost face with how she imagines what he would do with the information.

so long as she can keep her cameras away from him then everything will be golden. ]

You have a place to call home in the fog? I don't remember ever finding someplace else that doesn't belong to another killer already.

[throughtheribs]

[ She's not dismissive, doesn't snort or laugh at the name being so average. She almost sounds fascinated, though he might be hearing something he wants to hear. Danny keeps his eyes on her, head tilted slightly, and waits until she speaks again, unwilling to interrupt her thought process in case he distracts her from some careless remark she was going to make.

Whether or not he can trust her to keep his name to herself is still up in the air, but for the moment, he takes her word for it. And Zarina's still thinking it over, still caught up in her own thoughts, so he feels along the recorder again, glance flicking to where she's holding his knife, how she's holding his knife. It's lucky for him that the mask hides any hint of his expression or the movement of his eyes, or she'd know just how focused he is on that despite the unlikelihood of her ever actually using it against him.

It's more a concern that she'll try to walk away with it than anything, but.

Her next question almost catches him off guard, but he doesn't show it except in a few second pause before he responds. ]

Not really. I was never tied down to one place, so the Entity had nothing to bring here for me. [ His tone is light and casual, which hides the very slight annoyance he feels about the whole situation. For all the advantages being a wandering killer has, he's got virutally no real security or privacy that he doesn't forcibly make for himself. No place to hide his offerings and few belongings that isn't there by someone else's goodwill, nowhere safe to relax between trials ... but he's mostly gotten over that. ] It's a shame, but at the same time, it means everyone else's property is effectively mine.

[ Not that they appreciate that. ]

So that's one less advantage for you. Nowhere to sneak into to try and dig up my past. You'll just have to settle for doing that to everybody else.

[ Which he gets the feeling, given her attitude and willingness to walk out here and meet him directly at her own discretion, she absolutely will do if she hasn't already. ]

[curiously]

[ everyone else's property is his; a pause of her words as she raises a brow, the grip on the knife's handle tightening for a split second with her imagination running. several times she runs through the fog to scavenge for supplies with the others while the other times are — no, it's impossible. zarina always makes sure that she isn't followed, that her mind is clear of everything else but her goal. that way she's free from running into other killers and their realms by accident like when she first arrives.

the sides of her lips curl upward as she asks: ]

Favorite place to stay in, then? And your not-so-favorites are?

[ her questions are less of the interviewer's tone and more of a conversation's tone this time. surely jed has a preference when it comes to staying somewhere longer to the point of rest, she thinks. the trapper's realm, she remembers, is dangerous with how he protects it with hidden bear traps around. the estate is guarded by its highly territorial owners who would not hesitate to cut trespassers into pieces.

(and when it comes to the ghost face, maybe he leaves things behind — but he doesn't seem to be the type when he roams the fog and has no permanent home and how she needs to settle searching for details about other killers, just as he said. as if that's stopped her before.)

at least places like the pre-school has no entry at all outside outside of trials (or is it exit?) when it's time to look for more resources, whether it's to add to her toolbox, medkits, or rations despite never really feeling hunger in the first place.

eating and sleeping gives a sense of normalcy, if anything. ]

Hard to imagine you just napping at the hospital without the Doctor shocking you to wake up.

[throughtheribs]

[ Part of him was expecting mockery, or at least a snide comment, so the fact that she just keeps asking questions is a little bit of a surprise. And she doesn't sound too prying, either. It's almost like she just wants to know to satisfy her own curiosity. Interesting, but not exactly something he's willing to answer outright, either.

After all, his 'favorite' places are the ones where he does keep what little he has. Letting her know where they are is all but an invitation for her to go prying. It'd probably take her a thousand tries to find his stuff, and she'd die more often than she didn't, but that doesn't seem like it would stop her - and she only has to get lucky once. ]

Sleeping's not a necessity here, so I generally don't do it. [ He was never much of a sleeper anyway, doing his best work at night. Whether that was murder or reporting didn't really matter. ] And even if I tried, you're right in that I wouldn't bother with the hospital. Our favorite doctor would take that as an invitation to strap me to a chair and jam electrodes in my eye sockets.

[ Danny watches Zarina a second longer, then starts to move, taking a few steps toward her and then starting to move around her. To circle her, in essence, like a predator with prey just a little too aware for its liking. He could kill her without his knife easily, but he'd prefer not to - and so far she hasn't warranted it. All her questions have been enough to feed his ego and keep him in a relatively positive mood. ]

Why don't you guess? Where do you think I'd spend most of my time in? Or you could tell me your favorites first.

[ All the better to learn how to ruin them for her. ]

[curiously]

[ there's only one answer to the ghost face's intrigue: ]

Now that's like saying pick my favorite tombstone. [ a shake of her head, her lips forming a small smile as the softest chuckle leaves past it. ] I don't like any of them when I died several times over in every single one.

[ the real answer stays safe in her mind; zarina's played her own game of lies and deception throughout her career from learning how to blend in with certain people to disguising herself as another. relax. breathe. don't repeat the heartbeat that echoes through her mind in a trial when fear takes over. there's no need to indulge on what could be used as ammunition for the future.

moving on, she tells herself in her mind: where would jed olsen's favorite place be in the fog? a place where he can relax for at least five minutes before leaving. perhaps a place that can be considered safe outside of trials, or a place that he works with best during trials. a place that, with his specific set of skills, would thrive in whether or not he's working.

her eyes never leave jed's form as he begins to move, ears catching the sound of his footsteps along with the leather straps that float in mid-air. make sure that he doesn't take too many steps closer to her and ultimately stop her heart.

talking also keeps the both of them occupied despite having some thoughts kept aside. ]

Yours... how about Haddonfield?

[throughtheribs]

[ Her joke makes him snicker a little, lost under the mask and leather but if she watches closely she'll see his shoulders shift a little. It's something he'll keep in mind for later. Pick your favorite tombstone. Still, he'd have thought she'd have a place she liked better than the others, whether because she gets around it more easily, it's more familiar, or just because she likes the feel of it, the look, the aesthetic. Glenvale is popular because it has sunlight - it's the only place with any of it.

He makes his way toward her, and around her, keeping just enough distance so that he doesn't spook her and make her bolt. If Zarina got away with his knife ... he's got others, but that one's more than slightly special. Better to just unsettle her and force her to watch him while they talk. Keep her a little bit distracted so that she's not thinking when she responds.

Her guess, though, makes him look at her while he moves. ]

Really? Because it's a suburb? Those aren't actually that interesting without people in them. And I can't say Michael's a big fan of visitors in general. [ He doesn't get stabbed every time he goes there, but it's a less balanced win-loss than he'd like to admit to. ] It's not bad for a trial, though all of you have an obnoxious tendency to hide in all the worst places when I'm trying to find you.

[ Whether he admits that she's right about his 'favorite' places or not is still up in the air. If he tells her, she might go straight to those places, trying to dig up anything about him. If he doesn't, he loses out on a chance to have her keep asking questions, keep trying to learn about him, keep feeding his ego with her curiosity and drive - not that he really recognizes that.

Danny takes a few more steps around her, until he's moving behind her. With enough distance that it'll take more than a lunge to reach her, but still in a dangerous place. ]

Try again.

[curiously]

[ neck twisting around enough until the ghost face slips out of view. the ghost face — his name is jed, or so he says — has a habit of staying hidden until one least expects it. being plucked off a generator now and then by him (and michael, and the pig, among others) or taking a precise stab to her body lets zarina learn that she shouldn't take her eyes off him once in sight.

there shouldn't be any surprises when it's just a talk — a trade of information — despite being predator and prey in the fog. zarina believes that because she has the man's knife that she'll be safe, that she'll be able to defend herself if anything were to ever happen.

if only the entity didn't change her attire. having her pink leather jacket with kevlar hidden within its stiching would be useful if it comes to it, and a surprise for anyone else that has yet to encounter it. ]

I was thinking more on it being a comfortable place to hide with how cozy it looks. [ a slight shrug of her shoulders. ] So long as Michael doesn't see you, of course. It's a nice place to find a pillow.

[ after all, scavenging for supplies doesn't stop at refilling their first aid kits and toolboxes. sometimes there's that rarity of the coffee machine at the gas station actually working and giving her a full cup in the end. speaking of — ]

How about this place? [ zarina gestures towards their general area with the knife, the pointy end towards condemned cars and trash. ] I picked it because it always seems empty despite never really being able to see the Wraith for obvious reasons. It's quiet, there's a house somewhere with a bed.

[ there has to be other places for him to gravitate towards to. it's the same for everyone, isn't it? ]

I'd say the church, but then I wouldn't want to be caught by the Clown either. [ a shake of her head, the first few thoughts slipping out of her mouth. ] And the last time I went to the Trapper's place it wasn't friendly for visitors.

[ and now, for a question that zarina believes she already knows the answer to yet can't help but wonder despite of it: ]

What about Glenvale?

[throughtheribs]

[ 'Cozy' is one way of putting it, he thinks. It's decent enough. There's mattresses. Almost beds. Some furniture. But she puts her finger on the problem, and that's the local psychopath, who even Danny keeps his distance from - usually - due to his inability to accept anyone else setting foot in his neighborhood. Even other killers. And it's not as if he says anything before he acts.

He keeps pacing around Zarina, coming back into view not long after to keep her partly at ease - as if anyone could be at ease around him. He listens, he smiles under the mask. She'll guess every trial ground at some point. He'll have to agree to at least one, if only to keep her from getting annoyed enough to not come back and talk to him again, but he won't tell her the truth. He can't. Not if he wants to keep his privacy.

Though he could not exactly lie, just ... not tell the whole truth. Isn't that his specialty? ]

I'd like this place better if it had a little more in the way of creature comforts, and if its occupant was a little more positive toward me. [ To say Philip's not his biggest fan is a vast, vast understatement. ] I'm not that religious, and no, the Trapper isn't fond of anybody trespassing on his territory. Not that that stops me.

[ It just doesn't always end well. He pauses briefly as she mentions Glenvale, bringing her recorder up to tap on the chin of his mask. ]

It's not bad, but not quite what I'd call my favorite. I don't drink heavily and I'm not really a sunlight kind of guy. [ He keeps moving, pacing back around Zarina again. ] And your cowboy's territorial, too.

[ Her cowboy, because she and Caleb showed up at the same time. And from what he's learned, she knows him. Not exactly personally, but any kind of connection is valuable to him - valuable, and dangerous. ]

You're getting closer, though. I do like having places to look down on people from, even when I'm not trying to kill all of you.

[curiously]

[ her cowboy — ]

My cowboy? No thanks, you can have him. [ there's a shake of her head with a touch of sourness on her lips; heartbeats rush and betrays her — it's fortunate that her heartbeat doesn't resonate like in trials — while her grip on the knife's handle tight enough to reveal the bones of her knuckles for five seconds. ] He's a remorseless asshole. Fits this place well, infact.

[ it's not hard to recreate her uttermost frustration when it comes to meeting caleb quinn earlier on. how she remembers his cruelty and contempt upon discovering that she's a journalist — zarina was angry, but never hated the man despite what he had done — the way they push each other until exasperation transforms into tolerance and then into something else entirely unexpected.

jed olsen is a journalist, and that means they both understand the power of information despite being in the fog. everyone still has their secrets both originating from back home and created within the entity's realm. secrets that run deep in a person's heart and mind, forging who they are at a young age and secrets that lead to a pocket of happiness in a dark and bleak world.

zarina kassir refuses to have that ruined by the ghost face. ]

When you say you're not religious, am I free to cross out the temple from the list then? Unless you're friends with the priestess.

[ it's not the plague for zarina, but priestess. calling her "the plague" makes her think it's cruel despite dying to the woman many times over.

meanwhile, having places to look down on people... if not haddonfield nor glenvale, then where? it takes her a moment as she recalls the sense of height difference per level in a realm. not exactly a deep analysis as her line of sight keeps focus on the jed, making sure that he isn't too close for comfort.

a slow inhale as she flicks her wrist, pointing the knife towards him. not as an act of harm, but like a teacher who denotes information to the class. ]

So. Is it the school, the resort, or the meat plant?

[throughtheribs]

[ That moment of tension, of offense, makes him smirk. Not that she can see it. He notes it, tucks it away for later, and keeps moving, his slow, careful pace not meant to do anything more than unnerve her. For the moment. She doesn't like there being any connection between them; too bad for her he showed up when she did, which solidifies the link. And from what he's heard, there's more than just that to connect them.

But he doesn't bring it up, and doesn't push on it even though he could, easily. It'd distract them from the topic at hand - that being himself - and there's no point in doing something that might make her storm off, with or without the knife. Best to keep things cordial. ]

It does. Though she generally ignores me if I'm in there. [ Only partly true. Adiris - and he notes how Zarina doesn't use the nickname even some of the other killers use, which suggests a note of respect - will ignore him if he stays out of her way, but she's perfectly willing to kill him out of hand if he trespasses where she can see it, or if he blasphemes, or if she's in a bad mood. He can't get sick, so it's usually strangulation for him. Admittedly, he'd prefer that to what she does to stray survivors.

He almost, almost pauses at the last three suggestions, because one is right, one is the fake right, and one is actually offensive. Does she really think that he'd - ? But why would she have any idea? He snorts, taking a second to pause behind her. ]

The meat plant stinks and nobody likes the school. [ Not actually you're wrong, but being dismissive is a way to keep her mind off it. ] But the resort ... it's cold, it's quiet, you and yours don't generally trespass on it, and I can usually talk Legion around to letting me stay there for a while. It's not a bad place to be.

[ In truth, it's probably the 'favorite', since the meat plant really does reek worse than anything else in the fog that he's run across, but it's the one place where he can almost guarantee his own safety and, most importantly, privacy. Amanda doesn't give a shit about him. ]

Though they aren't as inclined to kind to survivors, I'm sure you've noticed.