Tick.

Tock.

Tick. A clock? Tock. No. Tick. A countdown? Tock. To what? Tick. Wait and see. Tock.

Exhibit C + D. Read: tl.gd/n_1spq3ov

A gift left on the doorstep to SCP Foundation. It burns, doesn't it?

A low whistle, the steam from a fresh cup of coffee blown from the top.

He holds a black helmet in his hands, the face shield cracked and the helmet dented in. A soft whistle, followed by a mocking laugh.

A light hum, the tip of his umbrella knocking against the floor in time with an unseen clock. Tick. Tock.

A clock chimes, the sound reminiscent of Big Ben. It is nowhere close to the top of the hour.

A knock against metal, the tip of his umbrella scraping into the material. Something whimpers behind a locked door.

The Dreamer x.com/evilbmcats/sta…

An amused huff, the page of a paper turned. The ink is a deep red, the pages a subtle pink.