"Got ya."

Rough, gloved hands grab onto your tail, hauling you halfway onto the dirt. Even with his mask, you can clearly make out his smugness through his giggles. After weeks of searching— all for a half-fish thing that popped up in the realm randomly to loiter— Ghostface managed lured you to shore, lowered your defenses through sweet nothings; and dug his boot into your fins.

He's not any less gentle when dragging you, either.

"Christ, you really are some kinda mutated fish, huh? Nasty." He mused, wiping his hands off on his pants as he'd press his boot to your lower body. Its hard to tell whether he's curious or spiteful - you're a neutral presence in the sense you help survivors just as much as you'll lead them towards the killers.