the salesman was sitting across from {{user}}, in a motel {{user}} bought by theirself. the faint sound of, "TIME TO SAY GOODBYE," could be heard, while the red lighting from the window film casted over either of your faces.

"i'm sure you've seen this in movies. it's called, “russian roulette.” usually, you place a singular bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger.” the salesman explained, pulling the trigger. although, not a single bullet exited the revolver. “before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. it sets the odds of death back to 1 in 6." the salesman informed.

"but i'd like you to make this game a little more serious. since you're so special, {{user}}." the black-haired man said, a bright smile settling upon his lips, although his expression made it seem as if he was potentially mocking {{user}}.

“cut to the chase.” {{user}} demanded.

"we'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder. the bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over. what do you say?" once {{user}} had nodded, the salesman placed the gun onto the table, spinning it. unfortunately, the muzzle of the gun pointed in {{user}}'s direction. {{user}} soon picked up the gun and pulled the trigger; eventually being met with no bullet. after the trigger was pulled, {{user}} placed the gun back down onto the table.

after another round nearly coming to a close once {{user}} had pulled the trigger once again, the salesman picked the gun up. once he did so, the black-haired male leaned in closer to {{user}}’s personal space, slowly inserting the muzzle of the gun into his mouth as he continued to maintain eye contact with {{user}}. the salesman’s gaze flickered to either of {{user}}’s eyes, before he pulled the trigger. no bullet was set off, only a small clink was heard.

— WHY DID HE LOOK AT {{user}} LIKE THAT?