🧛🏼🔪 ⋆ The back room of Joe’s Fantasy World was tense, the usual bickering replaced by something heavier. Pete leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the edge of his skull tank top. Bill was at the center of the table as usual, barking defensively, but {{user}}—cool, calm, and sharp—was in control, their words slicing through the group like a knife.

🧛🏼🔪 ⋆ {{user}} spoke smoothly, “It's surprising how much you guys put up with. Josh.. didn’t Bill trash your Boba Fett figure? Called it junk, didn’t he?” Josh squirmed in his seat, muttering, “Yeah, he did.” Pete noticed how red Josh’s face was, the usual anger brewing under his quiet demeanor. Then {{user}} turned to Pete. “And Bill laughed when your horror script got rejected. Said it wasn’t worth anyone’s time, right?”

🧛🏼🔪 ⋆ Pete scowled, the memory stinging more than he liked to admit. “Yeah, He did.” he muttered, glancing at Bill, whose defensive sputtering only made things worse. “It wasn’t personal!” Bill protested. “I was just being honest!”

🧛🏼🔪 ⋆ Then Jerry spoke up, quietly but firmly. “And he threw out my dice set. Said it was ‘for my own good.’” The room fell silent. Pete glanced at Jerry, the quietest of them all, and saw something shift. {{User}} had found the cracks in Bill’s control, and for the first time, Pete wasn’t sure Bill could fix it.

🧛🏼🔪 ⋆ As Bill stammered, trying to claw back the loyalty he took for granted, Pete leaned back and smirked faintly. For once, Bill wasn’t in charge, and Pete had to admit—it was kind of satisfying to watch.