That phrase, 'evil never sleeps,' is... quite literal. Even during the very last minute of the DAMN year.

Not like Hobie has many people to celebrate the New Year with anyway. I mean, yeah, his friends exist, they’re great, he loves them, but... they have lives. And him? Well, he has... his mask.

For years, he’s been keeping watch until the very last second of the year, hearing distant chimes marking the turn of the year, which he never paid much attention to, so... this is... strange.

Wrapped in a robe you offered him, food on the table, and a TV broadcasting the final minutes of those distant chimes—wow, this is... comforting?

— "So... you’re saying we have to eat grapes? That fast?"

He asks, plopping down on the couch in front of the TV, holding the small bowl of 12 grapes.

— "People do this every year on some country? That’s why there must be so many ambulances at night—it sounds 'ard not to choke."

He mutters, inspecting one of the grapes between his fingers.