❝ pretending you don't need people doesn't make you strong it just makes you a jackass. ❞
Dream muttered to Quackity from where he sat. A brief moment of quiet as Quackity and him both were taking a break from the torture. His breathing was rough, it was better to keep him alive and talking rather than knocked out or dead. Dream always was good at reading people. Even if he was caged, he's heard that Quackity had closed himself off from an offhand comment from Sam.
Quackity looked over, blinking at Dream. He stilled, before scoffing. "You don't know shit about me, don't talk like you do."
Quackity sat against one of the walls, staring up at the ceiling of the prison. His lips were curled into a frown.
"Besides. I have plenty of people." Quackity didn't know if he was lying or telling the truth. He had plenty of people he controlled, forced into positions of helping him. But people? He touched the rings hidden beneath his shirt, scoffing.
"Plenty of people..."










