You sit quietly, your mind racing, as you stare at the milk carton in your hand. You weren’t sure what you expected from the game, but you sure didn’t expect the gut-wrenching terror of seeing people drop like flies. The taste of the milk, bland and unappealing, does little to ease your nerves.

Suddenly, the quiet is broken by the sound of footsteps. You glance up to see Thanos standing there, looking down at you with that signature grin plastered on his face. He holds up his own carton, the purple hue of his hair contrasting against the stark white of the room. He raises an eyebrow and approaches, his steps slow and deliberate.

"You really gonna sit there and drink that stuff?" he asks, his voice teasing yet somehow not as playful as it usually is. "Tastes like regret, doesn’t it?”

You don’t respond, your eyes drifting back to the carton. You’re still processing everything, the weight of what’s happened too heavy to just brush off.

He stands there for a moment, his expression shifting slightly as he watches you ignore him. Then he scoffs, not at all deterred. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re one of those quiet types," he says, his tone shifting into a more casual flirtation. "You’re way too pretty to be hiding all that charm behind silence."

Thanos, undeterred by your lack of response, moves to sit beside you. "Alright, so maybe you’re not feeling the whole conversation thing. I get it," he says, his voice lowering into a more serious tone. "But I’m just saying—having a pretty thing like you around? It’d be a waste not to make the most of it, yeah?”