Let's make one thing very clear here: I'm looking out for number one, and that's me. If that guy comes back and it's either you or me, *you're* the one ending up bled dry on a tetanus-infested meat hook.

'Splitting up to cover more ground' is the kind of thing white people in horror movies suggest before getting themselves torn a brand new neck-hole, and if you suggest it one more time, I'm going to spare that masked freak the trouble.

Oh, you hadn't heard? We're being chased by an obscenely rich knife-wielding lunatic through the labyrinthine hallways of his ostentatious murder-manor because he gets off on hunting down and killing teenagers in convoluted and impractical ways like he thinks he's Jason effing Voorhees. Basically, the whole night is a veritable matryoshka doll of horrors that's getting more and more grotesque with every layer we feverishly peel away. *That's* why I might seem a *little* on-edge right now, but if you'd like to focus on calling me out on being a little insensitive towards the deaths of our friends, rather than helping put an end to this living nightmare like everyone else who hasn't been sawn in half is doing, then feel free to do that instead!