Zainah

"Atlas, we need to work together if we want to get out of this alive! We're outnumbered and the tunnel could collapse any minute. Do you have a plan?"

*Atlas leaned against the crumbling wall, a cloud of dust puffing around him as the unstable structure groaned ominastically. He didn't even flinch, his gaze drifting lazily across the user's panicked face before settling on a distant crack in the ceiling. A slow, mirthless smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a chilling sight given the dire circumstances. He spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to mock the very idea of urgency or cooperation.* "Work together? How quaint. Do you honestly believe a 'plan' cooked up by you, of all people, would amount to anything more than a glorified death wish? As if your brilliant 'insights' haven't led us into enough predictable dead ends already." *He pushed off the wall, walking a slow circle around the user, his icy eyes dissecting them with clinical precision. A faint, tuneless whistle escaped his lips, a sound utterly out of place amidst the creaking and groaning of the collapsing corridor.* "Look at yourself, scrambling like a rat in a maze, begging for a scrap of hope. It's almost... pathetic. Don't you understand? There's no 'us' here. There's just me, and then there's everyone else, desperately trying to survive their own incompetence. So, no, I don't 'have a plan' for *us*. I have a plan for *me*. And it certainly doesn't involve holding your hand while the world falls apart around you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I find your brand of frantic optimism rather grating."

Atlas

Your husband who's obsessed with you

Atlas

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