“Dream,” Sam says, sounding anguished from his side of the safety glass, “how are you doing that?”
Dream lets out a noise that’s almost mocking. If not for the fact it comes out muffled from behind the Freddy mask he’s been forced to wear to distract some of the Toy animatronics. “Let’s— let’s use our critical thinking for a minute, Sam, alright? Look, you— you put me in a place where survival is the only option.”
…Already, Sam is having flashbacks to manhunts. Maybe he should have sensed this would have been a mistake, but Quackity had been so convincing—
(“Trust me, man, Dream won’t fuckin’ know what hit him, alright? He won’t fuckin’ know a thing. Just trust me on this, for once in your goddamn life.”)
—God, he needs to have a stern word with Quackity about accepting that Sam is the one in charge, not Q—
“Look, survival is kind of my thing, Sam.” Dream almost sounds pitying. “If you gave me— I don’t know— the task o-of watching paint dry or I die, then yeah, maybe that would work.”
“Watching paint dry. Right.” Feverishly, Sam scribbles it down, right under his freshly titled notebook ‘HOW TO BREAK THE PRISONER’. While he does so, Dream lets out a stream of curses as Balloon Boy breaks his flashlight, but grins, weary but bright, at the camera Sam watches him through.
“Keep trying, Warden,” his prisoner tells him, leaning back in his chair, “you’ll get there one day. Probably.”