You've Missed Mouthy

"Nothing's Fine."

        Bolting up from his bedsheets, Jeff wipes his brow and rubs his eyes in a blind panic. It was a dream, a terrible dream, one that left beads of sweat dripping down his face. He could see the masks of all the people he met, he remembered the terrible things that happened to them before they were brought here, he could hear the giggles and sobs so very clear. And yet his mind couldn't connect them to a name, nor an actual face. Taking one of his hands, Jeff combs his fingers through his charred hair, trying to make sense of the things that fill his head. Pieces try to crawl back into his open thoughts, but causes his head to throb painfully.

Cursing under his breath, Jeff grabs his forehead tightly.

"What happened last night?" He growls, trying to recall something from the vivid images. Though, only coming back with the smell blood in his nose and ache of concern sitting on his heart. The contents of his dream leaves his stomach churning from a foreign emotion, making it rumble sickly. Standing up from his bed, the black haired killer stumbles to the door. He pushes it open, letting all the faces from his dream flood his vision. With a grunt and groan, he blinks away the plastic expressions that remain unlabeled. One grins at him teasingly behind a barred mouth guard, their two eyes sparking with mischief under orange lenses. What was his name again?

Jeff grabs the wall with his hand clutching his forehead with the other. A painful headache splits his vision into red and black scenes of gore-filled memories he's never seen before. Or at least, he didn't remember seeing them.

Turning the corner at the end of the hall is the tall and beautiful Jane, her stride strong, even in her tight dress and heels. She pauses for a moment upon looking at the other black-haired killer, not feeling a hint of concern for him. She exhales slowly, pulling herself to the far side of the hall to walk parallel with hanging portraits across from Jeff. He coughs, groaning out swears as she clicks past him. The flood of unknown material filling his mind causes him to fall to the floor in a heap of his own white hoodie.

Stopping her feet, Jane turns around just enough to see his pale body on the carpet. Confused, and slightly intrigued at his inability to stand, she wanders to his side, poking his leg with the tip of her shoe.

"What the hell did you drink?" She chuckles, waiting for an annoyed comment to slip his lips. When she's left without a reply, Jane leans down to get a better look at him. "Hey, slit-lips. We sleep in our beds, get up and get out of the hallway." Still no reply, though she can hear Jeff almost whimper over the pain in his head. "Lightweight..." Jane mutters in finality, standing up to leave again.

"... W-what's the d-date?" Jeff spits through his shaking lips, rolling his neck to gaze up at the flawless features of the woman.

"The date? Why the hell do you need to know the date?" Jane scoffs, withholding the information.

"J-just tell me, bitch." He groans, and she just smiles deviously.

"I've missed our frequent fights, Jeff. I haven't had a good duel in almost six weeks. I was so tempted to find you myself and finally kill you. But you came back to the manor before I got the chance."

"Six weeks?" Tell me the date Jane!" Jeff moans, holding his head as he sits up. Jane looks him up and down and laughs.

"You have things you won't tell me. So..." She flips open her hands, palms facing the ceiling as she shrugs. "... I must have forgot."

"Six weeks..." Jeff mumbles. "... must have forgot. Where's Masky?" He shouts, not waiting for Jane to answer before shooting off down the way she came. She stands watching, scoffing a laugh before calmly following him at her own pace.