[This is not a typical dream or hallucination, it was far too bright and cheery for that. Although that 'Mom'-figure sure filled the creepy quota all on her own, she hadn't suddenly and violently transformed herself and the environment into something horrific and potentially blood soaked, so that was a good thing, hopefully. She had just thrust a bag in his hands and shoved him out the door, where he had cautiously searched through the bag, ready for anything and all that could jump out at him, but all he found out of the ordinary was... a pokeball?]
[Well, this was new.]
[He was a fan of video games sure, but Pokémon? Really?]
[In a bright white flash the capsule opens and releseas a small, child-like shape on the ground and it has Simon jumping up on his feet, scrambling for the switchblade in his pocket.]
[It takes him a moment to calm down, keeping his knife steadily pointed at the little Ralts standing a few feet away. It's making half-hearted attempts to walk closer to him, but each time he jumps back, keeping the distance between them.]
No. Go away. Don't touch me. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Or touch you. Go away, shoo.
Simon Henriksson | Cry of Fear
[Well, this was new.]
[He was a fan of video games sure, but Pokémon? Really?]
[In a bright white flash the capsule opens and releseas a small, child-like shape on the ground and it has Simon jumping up on his feet, scrambling for the switchblade in his pocket.]
[It takes him a moment to calm down, keeping his knife steadily pointed at the little Ralts standing a few feet away. It's making half-hearted attempts to walk closer to him, but each time he jumps back, keeping the distance between them.]
No. Go away. Don't touch me. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Or touch you. Go away, shoo.
(ooc: what do you mean late, never late)