For the Masked Partier - Regretevator AU ...

' Past Regret. ' (PT. 2)

[ ? ? ? . . . ]

  "So, you really think thy knows?" A tall figure scowled, claws gnawing against the room's sides and splintering it, the walls screeching back in protest.

A slightly shorter one gave a silent, cautious nod, confirming their suspicions. The tall one sighed, a malevolent darkness creeping across their face.

  "I..suppose it never harms to exterminate more than needed, no?" They said with a sinister chuckle, making even the fly buzzing around the room drop dead to the ground. The latter once more gave a look of approval, even seeming hesitant themselves as if second-guessing working for this person. Though the emotion on their face masked, it was palpable of the unnerving beam that would show if exposed.

"Good. Then eliminate him at first sough, thus the finale draws nigh, and we aim for a... fortunate outcome. Mistakes will not be tolerated, little one." They lectured. "Thy is dismissed." 

They lifted a sharp finger, flicking the air, simultaneously making the other scurry out of the room without any resistance, dim red eyes following observantly as they departed.

[ Pilby. ]

  Pilby faced Bive, who was now on high alert. They felt a frigid wisp shake their half-existent confidence, feeling a little jittery. Split and Pilby stepped backwards into each other, standing back-to-back. Pilby instinctively edged closer to her as the tension intensified— the room was eerily silent, to say the least.

Pilby took no hesitation to put it past themselves, grabbing Split's arm and following after Bive nimbly. As they walked, Split decided to try to strike a conversation down with Pilby.

" Hey, Pilby, you don't assume that maybe Bive has gone a bit haywire, do you think? I love her all the same, but sometimes I can't help but wonder, what's going on inside that fluffy head of hers! I suppose she's got a brain of fuzz. " Split said, winking sideways. Though, she was truly concerned for Bive. She knew how she could be quite the conspiracy theorist at times, and overly anxious over everyone and everything, but she couldn't help but frown whenever she thought of her paranoid friend.

Pilby shrugged, speechless atleast. They hadn't much a clue either. But they did agree: it was quite saddening to see someone overcome with such suspicion of everything at once just to get overwhelmed with about anything. But, it did manage to come in handy when something abnormal did happen. Just like in the couple prior hours–and the more likely to follow.

 Bive had unironically gotten there before the other two with her considerable (fight or flight?) haste, about tripping head over toe as they bolted towards the room of which the noise had came from. As they approached, they overheard a snippet of Bive confronting someone–or, in this case, multiple 'someones'. 

  ". . . So, as far as we've observed, there's a really considerable amount of evidence against Poob...From the wires, fingerprints, and witnesses claiming of their absence, simply to just their inability to respond without hesitating or getting off topic. The dismissive behavior concerns me, too. How could they just brush off all of this for a sake of a party? Surely only the murderer would be reassured as to . . ."

Though, as soon as Pilby heard the word "murderer", and stopped in their tracks, letting go of Split. Their mind fell into an undesirable pit of thought