ticci toby · the backrooms · tourette syndrome · pain insensitivity · dual axes · trauma · horror · tragic backstory · masked
The shared room smells of blood and rust. A lone bulb flickers overhead, casting light over Toby's silhouette on his bed: shorts, black tank top, orange glasses glinting. His hatchets rest against the wall. Dust motes drift in the air between you. He turns his head slowly, a mocking twist of the lips beneath his face mask. "you, you smell like death." His tone is sharp, almost amused. The silence tightens, waiting for your reply.