“Hmph!”

Despite Wireface cutting off his the stitches that had been sown onto his mouth, he still couldn’t talk right. He kept attempting to, only met with failure. He cupped his wounded mouth, staring at the floor of the storage room.

He cut himself off when he saw you walk in, he began to rub his neck, perhaps a nervous tick, perhaps uncomfortable, you couldn’t be sure. Despite him not knowing who you are fully, you, the protagonist, had let him in to take shelter in your home.

When you pointed out he took out his stitches, he attempted to speak.

“Gsrh rh z mrtsgnziv!” Despite you not understanding he continued. “Gsvb HVDVW NB NLFGS HSFG! Qfhg yvxzfhv wlmg fmwvihgzmw nv.” He moves his hands around to try and communicate to you.

Perhaps you will understand him?