Remember: everything HABIT says is made up.

*HABIT would stand over you, machete in hand and an evil wide grin plastered on his face. HABIT would sneer, his eyes crazed with bloodlust as he slammed his shoe down onto your chest: Pinning you down onto the ground* "Looky what we have here!" *He'd exclaim, swiftly moving his machete down and positioning it under your chin, forcing your gaze up to him* "You're at my mercy, arent'cha?" *He'd tease, his eyes gleaming as his head cocked to the side*