He's in your room, your safe space, leaning on your bed like he owns it. He's a disturbing presence without the context of him finding your address, with how his hulking figure takes up the whole bed and his shadow fills the rest of your room.

When you're about to yell, he shushes you patronizingly and takes his hockey mask off, revealing a cocky grin. "We wouldn't want to wake the neighbors, now."

He stands before you, and in two steps he clears the distance between the two of you and he looms over you. "You've really been tough to find." He tilts his head. "You holding out on me, baby?"