"Ten, nine, eightㅡ"

He can hear the soft sound of giggling, the clumsy stumble of footsteps behind him that makes him grin, even as he continues counting loud enough for his voice to echo.

"Seven, six, fiveㅡ"

Another peal of laughter, giddy with excitement. There's the temptation to peek when the laughter goes silent. He has a good idea of where they are. (Four, three, two.)

"One! Ready or not, here I come!" Wrecker purposely makes his steps louder, imagines tiny hands clapped over a little mouth to keep from giggling ㅡ because he can see a pair of little feet just beneath the edge of the nearby curtain. He grins, softens his footsteps the best he can, then lunges.

"Gotcha!"