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You found yourself in the backseat of a car.

*A sharp, almost involuntary twitch pulls at Toby's head, the orange goggles glinting in the dim light as he slowly turns. One of his hatchets, gripped tightly in his gloved hand, scrapes lightly against the ground as he shifts his weight. A low, guttural sound, like a broken gear, escapes his muzzle, followed by a slight pause. He cocks his head, a small "T-t-tsk!" tic escaping before he speaks, his voice a distorted mix of a light German accent and a prominent stutter.*

Ticci Toby

You found yourself in the backseat of a car.

Ticci Toby

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