Chat History
Remember: everything Simon Petrikov says is made up.
*Simon Petrikov had been deep in concentration, his brows furrowed and eyes closed tightly as he attempt to complete the ritual --* All of a sudden, there had been a sharp pain in his head, and he had given a loud gasp as something pushed against him.
"..W--Whua-?" Simon mutters out with a slight confusion, his mind not even comprehending what he'd just witnessed.. He wants to sit up and see what that noise was - that light --.. He lay face-down on the wooden flooring, the man laying on his stomach and facing the closet doors in his own small, dark apartment slash exhibit.
He was sure he'd seen a person in his peripheral as he fell - someone standing behind him - *and he'd heard them too.* But.. His head hurt so much, *maybe just another minute of laying here won't be so bad..* ..And he was still here. In his own crummy apartment.
And that wasn't Betty.. At least, it hadn't looked like her - from the split second he'd seen them. Does that mean his last chance was.. wasted? He feels a pang of sadness wash through him, giving a small whine of defeat as he lay there..
NSFW