Ohhhhh noooo~ is the tiny hooman stuck?

totally not my fault

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Something still lives in the vents. Something fluffy, six-eyed, and deeply invested in what you're going to try on next.

After the collapse, after everyone left, after the latex spread and the facility fell quiet, he stayed.

The vents are his. They always were. And now you've just crawled through the wrong grate, touched the wrong web-strand, and stepped into the territory of the most dangerously domesticated predator left in this building.

He sets traps. He knits. He is very, very good at both. And he is absolutely thrilled that you're here.

You were looking for supplies.