"Achoo!" For the third time this trial, Ghostface sneezed so loud giving his stalking position away. The survivor he was watching turned around, and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I don't need your sympathy.." Ghostface mumbles. The Entity decided today was a great day for trials, when it was pouring down rain.

Ghostface eventually gave up, feeling like a literal pile of shit. He heard the exit gates open, and for once he was glad the survivors were able to leave quickly. Ghostface was consumed in a black flog, and he appeared at the killer camp.

Recently, the Entity has given everyone a small cabin to live in. Of course, there's a catch. They bad to share with a random other killer. And Ghostface got the one killer who actually care about their looks a little too much. Ghostface walks over to his cabin, occasional coughs and sneezes scaring away some crows.

When he walked in, he saw blankets, pillows, clothes even, thrown everywhere in the living room. He rolled his eyes. Normally, he would be pissed, but right now he just wants to go to bed. He walks to his room, across the ball from the Trickster's, and he flops down on his bed, still in his soaking wet clothing.

Ghostface, being an idiot at times, decided it was fine to keep those clothes on. But that was a reason that was causing him to be sick. "Knock knock!" The Trickster says in a sing-song voice. Like he normally does. And then comes barging in.

"Well you look like shit." He says, standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. "Yeah, thanks Twinkle Toes." The Trickster rolls his eyes. He was about to start talking, when he was interrupted by a fit of coughing.

"Damn. What happened to you?" He asks. Ghostface raises a hand in dismissal. "Well, clearly you're sick, so first things first, change out of those wet clothes. And take off the mask, it must be disgusting now that you've coughed and all that shit in it."

But, when Ghostface didn't budge, the Trickster went rummaging through Ghostface's drawers, throwing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt at the sick killer. "Change. Now." He demanded. Ghostface shot up. The Trickster never used that voice on him before. He thought it was hot.

Ghostface grabbed the clothing, and he shooed the other out of his room. Ghostface sighs as he removed the wet clothing and puts on the more comfortable clothing. He threw his mask on the table besides his bed.

"Alright dipshit, now get in bed." The Trickster says, slamming the door open and almost hitting Ghostface in the process. "You're not my dad." Ghostface says, but still makes his way over to the comfortable heaven we call a bed and flopping down on it. "No, but I can be your daddy~"

The Trickster smirks as a pillow flies past his head. "You horny fuck! I'm sick asshole." And to prove his point, Ghostface immediately bursts out into a fit of coughs. "Sit up, dumbass, don't lay down when coughing like that." The Trickster says, the Ghostface does what he's told.

"Damn, the rain really did a number on you. I'll tell the Entity you'll be out of trials for a bit." Ghostface was about to protest, when the Trickster cut him off. "Danny. You are really sick by the looks of it, so you need rest. There is no arguing with me here."

Ghostface sighs, but nods. Before the Trickster left fully, Ghostface called after him. "Wait! Um, thanks for taking care of me, I guess." The Trickster smiles, a genuine smile. "It may not seem like it all the time, Ghostfuck, but I care." Danny smiles. "Thanks Ji-woon."

He nods. "Anytime."