@barksback, park: [ middle ] sender sticks their middle finger up at receiver
held-breath presence melts into her shadows like a warm embrace. empty, inky voids hungrily seek out his prey for this trial: a couple of newer faces, the biker, and park. a block of ice so cold it burns to the touch resides where, allegedly, a human heart used to be in killer's chest, it neither beats nor pulses, instead it waits for the perfect moment to explode.
slient stalker glides through the lower level of meat plant, a slight squint to left eye only evidence of daniel's acknowledgement of the horrid stench that marinated every entity-made surface. not his preferred hunting grounds if he was allowed to be picky (which, he normally was) but they were advantageous ones regardless, wide yawn easily hidden 'round doorways and stairwells, the threat of his knife waiting at every corner.
it's almost (almost) startling, then, as former journalist takes a sudden left — right when jake park in the flesh is destroying one of his hooks! excellent! wide stares are silently mirrored for what feels like minutes as echo finally begins to fade from ringing eardrums.
jake park, ever adamant to be the largest and most unruly thorn in danny johnson's side, breaks form first with a smile and rude gesture using his right hand, before turning tail and booking it in the opposite direction. well, now what?
do not take the bait. that doesn't quite sound like his voice, and grip on knife does not loosen, but feet remain rooted for the moment, mind working to figure out the best order of elimination. he's only here for you. probably true, but that might not be a bad thing, at least for right now. body instinctively gets low, molding back into the dark as slow (but calculated) pursuit begins slinking in the direction of soon-to-be victim, ears straining for any sign of saboteur's presence, determined not to let the other get the jump on him now, or ever again. playing hard to get will work, god knows he hates being ignored.