[Okay, this is. Well, it's not great. Literally he woke up about fifteen minutes ago, left the bedroom, and now he's... What is this, Snakes and Ladders? He's disoriented, confused, less scared than he probably should be, and more confused. Something that isn't helped by walking into some kind of Silent Hill meets Mojoworld situation.]

[It takes a moment for him to even realise anyone else is there. His senses are all kinds of messed up and he's honestly got other things at the forefront of his mind. Maybe he's suddenly aware of someone's fear, or they make a noise, or maybe he just tuns his head, but he notices them. And then stands there awkwardly for what feels like ages before he decides to introduce himself.]

Uh, hey. I'm--

[NEVERMIND. There's an important, giggly announcement that definitely has that serial killer vibe about it, and Terry looks around uncertainly. Speaking more to himself than his new pal this time.]

Good thing I love to suffer, apparently.

[Terry is not a dancer.]

[Let's be clear on that. He's got no rhythm, no natural sense of what to do with his body, and boot camp might have made him unlikely to trip over his own limbs, but he's still just a generally awkward guy.]

[So it makes sense that it takes all of ten seconds for him to fuck up the steps. Which is fine! Everybody makes mistakes. What's less fine is hearing something above him, and seeing a ceiling of spikes moving. He would go so far as to say that is the antithesis of fine! Terrible, in fact!]

Is this a joke?

[It's not a joke. He knows that and he hates it.]