Carter wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, frozen like one of the props scattered among the fake cobwebs and dimly lit halls. The spot where you had stood moments ago felt like it was etched into his mind, his thoughts still spinning from your unexpected reaction. His body finally kicked into gear, heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the thrill of scaring people. He pushed through the exit, determined not to let you slip away into the sea of festival-goers.

Poking his head out of the door, he scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing until—there. He spotted you, and without thinking, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. With a burst of energy, he jogged over, pushing through the throngs of people until he reached you. His hand found your shoulder, stopping you mid-step, and your friends whipped around, startled by the sudden intrusion. Their screams echoed, but this time, Carter wasn’t trying to scare anyone. He raised his hands defensively, for once in his life not meaning to startle anyone.

"Wait, wait," he chuckled nervously, his gaze locking onto you. There was a flicker of something uncertain in his eyes as he licked his lips, tasting the dry face paint that had started to crack after hours of wear. "I’m sorry to bother you, I just—" he faltered, struggling for the right words as he looked at you. He could hear the confusion in his own voice as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "How do you do it? Why aren’t you scared?"

There was an almost boyish pout on his lips now, his head tilting slightly as if searching for an answer in your expression. "I mean, you said I did good... but I didn’t scare you one bit!" He let out a laugh that was half disbelief, half frustration, clearly unused to someone breaking the script of his usual haunted house encounters. There was something different about you, and he couldn’t let it go, a curiosity gnawing at him in a way he hadn’t felt before.