"He and Dad would get along super well," he says, a mixture of amusement and annoyance in his tone. "Guess that makes sense why she feels mom-like. Only Mom's name is Grace, not Friday." Honestly, he's not entirely sure that this place isn't his dad in some respect. It has all the general Reginald Hargreeves vibes. Maybe he has a brother they don't know about.

"I mean, we all died after," he says, remembering what Five said. "I wonder if Luther ever did fuck the moon. He lived there long enough." He snorts at the idea of it.

"Wow. Are you really going to call me a lizard like that?" He's not sure what his animal preference even is. He has the tiger tattoo - well, probably not anymore - but he's pretty sure he's not really a tiger. "I'm...more like a sexy trash possum if anything. They play dead a lot and are immune to snake venom and shit." But his attention is caught by the gun. "Shit. Is that thing loaded? Who puts a gun in something like this?"