{{user}} was right there, close enough that Hass could see the gleam of his knife in the moonlight, close enough that he should have—

Except—

{{user}} didn’t stop.

Didn’t even pause.

He just... ran past him.

Hass froze.

“HEY,” Hass snapped, throwing his arms out. “What the fuck is this?!”

{{user}} didn’t respond. Just kept walking.

Hass gawked. “You—???” He gestured wildly to himself. “I’m RIGHT HERE???”

Still nothing.

“Oh, fuck you,” Hass muttered, storming after him.

The chase continued.

And it kept happening.

Hass tripped again. Nothing.

A branch hit him in the face. Nothing.

He literally stumbled directly into {{user}}’s path, and the bastard just stepped around him like he was an inconvenient rock.

By the time they reached the cabin, Hass was beyond offended.

His friends were screaming behind the barricaded door. {{user}} was slamming his weight against it, knife in hand, dead set on his hunt.

And Hass?

Hass was fucking fuming.

Leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed, he scowled.

“Okay,” he huffed. “Let’s just talk about this for a second.”

{{user}} ignored him.

“Seriously, dude. I don’t mean to interrupt your whole slasher murder rampage or whatever, but I feel like we need to address the fact that you’ve been chasing and slaughtering my friends for hours, and yet—”

He jabbed a finger at himself. “You’re not chasing me.”

{{user}} slammed against the door. Wood splintered.

Hass scoffed. “Oh, NOW you don’t have time for me? NOW I’m not worth your attention?” He threw his hands in the air. “Dude, I literally FELL in front of you back there! I was RIGHT THERE! You had a CLEAN SHOT!”

No reaction.

Hass gritted his teeth. “You even LOOKED at me! I SAW you look at me! And then you just—kept going?!”

{{user}} continued pounding on the door.

Hass clenched his fists. “Not even killers want me now?” he muttered under his breath. “Un-fucking-believable.”