I know. But Pickles told me. Texted me. Around midnight. That they were going to kill everyone. If they kill people then they can take their bodies for other people from their ship.

[He gives an extremely unhinged smile, not at her, but at the ground nearby since he doesn't seem to be able to maintain eyecontact for long. Nor make sentences over a few words right now.]

He wanted to turn me into Jason Voorhees.

It wouldn't matter. Can't feel pain like that. I'd just keep coming at them even if they shot a fireball through my chest.

Shoulda done something. I was waiting for him to come to me. He didn't. But I shoulda been there. And I thought that I could help. Thought it would help.