Wild Night

You stand to leave but see a burly man near the door, staring straight at you. There is something about him that troubles you. It might just be the large sweat patches under his arms and his mullet haircut, or it might be something much, much more sinister.

Checking to see if your Scrunchie Grenade is still in place atop your ponytail, you tell the Cloaked Man that you are sorry, you thought that you sat on a wet patch.