#ive decided

Mister religious trauma

John: Yes… this room is also dim, Arthur. It's hard to make much out. But there are… yes, curtains to your left. Here, here! I see a crack of the afternoon daylight creeping through the edges. You could probably open them. I might be able to get a better view of the room.

Arthur: Well. Let there be light.

John (yelling): Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!

Arthur: What? What is it?

John: It's fucking bright, Arthur! Use your hand to cover the - yes. Jesus Christ.

Arthur: Are you alright?

John: I'm not -- it was like staring at the fucking sun, Arthur! I can still see the window imprinted in my vision, flashing! Keep your hand there. Goddamnit.

Arthur (laughing): I'm sorry, friend. I suppose I should've warned you that after so long in the dark, the smallest amount of light can seem blinding. Is there anything in the room?

John (growling): I don't know, Arthur. I can't see anything through the fucking flashing.

Arthur: Alright, alright. Let's just… take a moment, shall we?

(Arthur sits down. There's a long stretch of silence.)

Arthur: …Doing alright there, John?

John (miserable): It's still flashing, Arthur.

Arthur: You know, for a piece of an eldritch god, your eyes are strangely sensitive.

Yoko: I- What the fuck. How did you get in here?

Wednesday: You should really find a better lock.

Yoko: What the fuck are you doing in here?

Wednesday: Getting ready to go to sleep.

Yoko: Right, and why can't you sleep in your own dorm.

Wednesday: It's November 1st.

Yoko: What does that- oh shit.

Wednesday: She's gone crazy, Christmas tree up and decorations everywhere with Christmas music blasting on her speakers.

YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT