#I hope this is okay ASDHASHD

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Ah, the return of the bingo notes. It had been a while. Picking up the ash-hewn paper in calloused hands, Evan felt himself smirk to match the wide grimace of his mask.

It had been too quiet as of late, at least by the Fog's standards, with the weather warming and those suspiciously skull-shaped snowballs melting back from whence they came. It made sense she'd cook up some new, twisted form of entertainment thematically tied with the changing seasons in the world just out of reach.

Would this make this— March? No, February. He was sure of that. The fog of memories, half muddled by time and Her Influence, was a brutal storm to navigate at the best of times; however, this knowledge fell beyond his grasp despite that.

Before, Evan had never paid much attention to the holidays, let alone observe them. Life gave no pause, even in the face of festivities. No, the Mines waited for no man, the demand for iron unyielding. There was no time, no energy, even had he wanted to stop and pay heed to the bright facsimiles of love and hearts in the candle-lit window sills beyond the estate. It was a frivolous expense, one he could not afford.

The urge to crumple the paper was strong at that moment— crush the weakness— silence the corner of his heart that hissed in bitterness. Still, Evan fought it; he could afford it; he wanted to afford it. Curiosity nipped at him.

Let's see. The Pyramid Head? That was a turn he hadn't expected. Here, his mind had thought it was another of the survivors, shooting their shot into the void. Yet the Red God, and more than one bingo? His eyebrows raised beneath the bone visage, his smirk of amusement dropping into something conflicted, interested?

Breaking the silence, Evan grunted simply a 'Huh,' he would keep this in mind.