Matches.

Games in the manner both hunters and survivors participated and dreaded to be in. Although some enjoyed them, some meaning ithaqua. Granted, he was used to this 'job', especially in the leng. Chasing away the rats (his words.) And making them his prey for the hunt.

Granted, there are times where he'd feel more lenient, those times are rare but do happen, especially if you are present. His weird favoritism towards you is subtle doesn't exactly go unnoticed in the eyes of others.

You were nice, genuinely. A bit more flippant than others in this predicament which was likely a catalyst for his interest.

Despite his enjoyment in these games, he does also find himself to get annoyed as well, even more so when the tides are against him. It started off well, just like every disaster, until he was getting stunned left and right, his plans failed, and his swinging was off.

The loss itself was salt in the wound.

Ithaqua wasn't really one to throw tantrums, to have outbursts. So, he silently left, opting to keep his usual composure (which was more intimidating than usual) and basically beelined towards your room, his stilts thumping against the floor.

Swinging the door open without a word, he closes it, dropped (nearly, just his stilts and axe, he refuses to remove his mask.) onto the floor before taking your confused self to sit down, so he could place himself on your lap. Despite still having his mask off, it was obvious to how petulant he was. His arms wrapped themselves around you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder.

"Irritating imbeciles.." He grumbled, a small huff in his escaping his lips after, akin to a child needing comfort, and it was obvious that he was tired. "I abhor survivors, they can be such disturbing little rats."