Mr. WPNZ was dragging himself off to Toomp's bike-shaped form, looking down. Metal thumped against stone as he opened the door to a bar, shoving Toomp out with the words, "Not you, half-pint." He got a strange noise in reply, probably protesting. He ignored it. Once he got settled, he ordered a whiskey. Something hard. Something that will take the edge off.

He sipped the tumbler, then looked down, stirring it. He sighed, sharp teeth poking him as he shuffled, getting comfortable on the small stool. Maybe he was just big. He thought for a moment of taking one of the dancers to a room. Let him just... do something there. Then he heard it. The familiar voice and the slight twitching of a CRT screen, and he turned to stare at...

"Box head!" Not Jigsaw. Jigsaw was meant for something that died the second they betrayed him. He stood, walking over to Mr. Puzzles while the other patrons parted like the Red fucking Sea. "What are you doing here, huh?" He loomed over him, and he didn't know if he was angry or just... scared.