[One specialty indeed. Cayde snorts softly, shoulders shaking with a hint of silent laughter as he pours himself another drink.]

I mean, you've got that down to an art. A real renaissance kind of a thing, and who am I to discourage creativity.

[Hank: slayer of dragons, drawer of dicks. It's got a good ring to it. He lifts his glass in a mock salute, toasting to the idea of future dicks.]

But if we're going for the creep factor, I think you gotta throw in some super vague, threatening stuff. Like 'go to the lighhhhtttt' or 'I see you' or I don't know. That kind of old horror movie stuff. Y'know, the ones where the people aren't smart enough to leave when they should and bad stuff ends up happening?

[It's nice to just let his mouth run, to just say whatever old shit comes to mind without having to worry about anything beyond superficial bullshit.]

You think you can handle that? I got faith.