“What do you do with the blood? . . . Asking for a friend.”

“A - admire?!” Nico is uncomfortable. That’s ( extremely ) rare. “Is that your kink, or . . . ?”

“Ah, I see now— It’s like an aesthetic for you. I‘ve heard weirder things before.”

“ . . . Okay. I thought I understood what was going on, but I guess not. There might be some underlying problems going on up there.” Nico is positive she’s an empousa at this point.

That’s what they all say— before you rip them to shreds. “Hi, my name is Morgan Haller, and I like to admire blood.”

Anybody can swear. “I’m just saying— I’m glad you don’t work in the infirmary. You’d probably lose yourself.”

“Eh, you’re right. I’m being a hypocrite. . . . ( Personally, ) I admire corpses.”

“The dead kind. Is there another kind I wasn’t aware of?”

“All of them. Preferably, the ones I kill. I like to take a moment to admire my work.” Shit. He sounds like a psychopath.

“I love when everyone’s finally asleep, and I can finally get some peace and quiet.” He would slide on a pair of glasses, and open up his book to the page where he left off.

“I’m... alive. Unfortunately.”

“Not gonna lie, I missed my daddy Will.”

He finally opens up his cabin door after a long hibernation. “...What did I miss?”

Wanna admire blood and chill, 𝓜organ 𝓗aller.?

∬ Me vs. Inserting a vine reference in my reply

Locks himself in Cabin 13 and devours an entire family sized box of Wheat Thins.

“Hi. Ghost Daddy is back.”