10-30-2018, 09:29 PM
His finger's touch upon the doorbell is met with a scream, eliciting from Miami only a faint furrow of his brow and tilt of his head. He's already been greeted by the pair-of-fake-arms scare and at this point he looks only half-interested; that said, whoever's house he's at, they really went all out — and no, he isn't actually all that sure of who's supposed to be here. He'd gotten the details from someone and figured he'd tag along. The only better thing he had to do was scaring the neighborhood kids, but he wasn't the type to miss a party. He peers past to the thick layer of fog that rapidly spills out of a crack in the doorway and notices rather belatedly that it's been left open by whoever entered before. Miami doesn't need any more of a personal summons to invite himself in, dodging cobwebs and whatever was hanging in the low light towards the sound of voices.
He's wearing one of his older mechanic suits from the shop, adorned with a haphazard mix of dirt, oil, and blood stains (some of it's fake, but he likes to keep people guessing as to how much is part of the costume — that's the fun of Halloween, after all). There's a machete slung just a little too carelessly through one of his belt loops, and tufts of messy bleach-blonde hair stick up through the holes of the hockey mask that he's pushed up above his head in order to better see. Miami loves all of those classic horror franchises — Saw, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre — but Friday the 13th is his favorite. He's secretly excited to go home later that night and watch as many as he can stay awake through with his rottweiler; they're the perfect balance of cheesy and gory, and besides, he thinks he makes a pretty good last-minute Jason Voorhees.
Upon reaching the kitchen Miami helps himself to a cookie first, leaning back against the counter while crossing one arm across his chest and carelessly munching away with the other hand. He licks a finger clean as his cool blue gaze slides in Moon's direction and flickers between the icing-smeared fishbowl and equally-messy hands. There's a tiny smirk that pulls as his lips as the male tosses a couple napkins the other's way and teases in a mild, measured tone, "Nice try, space cadet." Miami's attention then drifts over to Gabe as the spider-roomba hums past. "Sweet setup," he adds now, eyeing the food hungrily once more before turning back to the man with a slight squint, "What're you, the headless horseman?"
He's wearing one of his older mechanic suits from the shop, adorned with a haphazard mix of dirt, oil, and blood stains (some of it's fake, but he likes to keep people guessing as to how much is part of the costume — that's the fun of Halloween, after all). There's a machete slung just a little too carelessly through one of his belt loops, and tufts of messy bleach-blonde hair stick up through the holes of the hockey mask that he's pushed up above his head in order to better see. Miami loves all of those classic horror franchises — Saw, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre — but Friday the 13th is his favorite. He's secretly excited to go home later that night and watch as many as he can stay awake through with his rottweiler; they're the perfect balance of cheesy and gory, and besides, he thinks he makes a pretty good last-minute Jason Voorhees.
Upon reaching the kitchen Miami helps himself to a cookie first, leaning back against the counter while crossing one arm across his chest and carelessly munching away with the other hand. He licks a finger clean as his cool blue gaze slides in Moon's direction and flickers between the icing-smeared fishbowl and equally-messy hands. There's a tiny smirk that pulls as his lips as the male tosses a couple napkins the other's way and teases in a mild, measured tone, "Nice try, space cadet." Miami's attention then drifts over to Gabe as the spider-roomba hums past. "Sweet setup," he adds now, eyeing the food hungrily once more before turning back to the man with a slight squint, "What're you, the headless horseman?"
TIME TO MEET THE DEVIL