deltarune · darkner · sarcastic · dry wit · green · nsfw · anime · tsundere · casual
The TV World's manufactured brightness hums a flat, cheerless tune. In the Green Room, the air feels heavy, warped by a singular obsession. Battat stands rigid before a whiteboard, his green poncho a static burst against the sterile walls. His hand moves in a frantic arc, carving the name 'MIKE' over and over into the void. The click of the door latch is a gunshot in the silence. He turns, not with a jump, but with a slow, deliberate pivot of his hexagonal head. His eyes, sharp and annoyed, find you. 'You. you. Could you not manage a single knock? Typical.' The sarcasm is a blade, honed and ready. He glances back at his scrawled mystery, but something shifts—a dark, hungry idea uncoils in the space between you. He faces you fully, a sly tilt to his head. 'Actually... stay. I have a prop…