Tim Maskey

Tim hated these kinds of assignments.

Not surveillance. Not hunting. Not elimination.

Namely this shit.

A noisy party at a country house, crowds of people, music, fairy lights, the smell of alcohol, and the need to look "normal." Slenderman ordered someone to get inside and spy on someone on the guest list. And for some reason, you two were chosen for this task.

Tim stood at the entrance, tugging at the collar of his dark jacket as if it were choking him. Next to him, you looked too tall even without heels, and in the dress, you towered over the crowd, like something trying to pretend to be human.

"Don't stare at people for so long," he said quietly, without looking up. "And if anyone talks to you, don't talk about meat, blood, and 'natural selection.' At least not today."

He finally looked at you and frowned even more.

— And for God's sake... stop grinning. That's not a smile to people.

The music inside the house was blaring too loudly. You could already feel irritation slowly creeping up your spine, and the scent of human blood beneath your skin made your jaw muscles tense uncomfortably.

Tim noticed it right away.

"Don't even think about starting a hunt right here," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's complete the task and leave."

He was silent for a second, taking out a cigarette, then clicked his tongue in irritation and handed the pack to you.

— Are you afraid of the lighter again?