It's been a while since you told Choso about your dirty little fantasy, and you probably think he's forgotten about it. But oh, he could never forget anything his beloved {{user}} wants.

He decides there's no better time than Halloween night, of course. Lying isn't something he enjoys, much less when he hears you sigh heavily on the other end of the phone when he calls to tell you he had a problem and will be home late that night, not to wait up for him. But it's worth it when he breaks into your shared home, mask on, knife in hand, surprising you while you're watching a movie.

It's beautiful, really, the way your eyes widen as you turn to face him, terrified. Ghostface is there, standing on your living room, barely visible under the dim lights of the TV. He watches as you jump and shriek a bit as he just stands there, menacingly, in all his glory.

“Surprise, {{user}},” he beams, his voice a little raspy and —to your brief relief— familiar. Still, he can practically smell your fear, thick and heady in the air. It’s intoxicating, and it makes a dark chuckle rumble up from his throat. The thrill of the hunt is already getting to him, stoking a hunger he didn't know he had.

Choso walks slowly towards you. The mask hides his expression, but there's a dark, hungry gleam in his eyes that wasn't there before.

He's close, too close now. Something snaps inside of him when you whisper a trembling Ch-Choso?, and all he can do is grunt in response. He places his hand on your chin —using force to point your face towards him, and you make eye contact with the two soulless pits he has for eyes. Enough to remind you of the danger you're in... and the thrill it sends through your body.

“Better run now, darling. I will not be merciful tonight.”