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The hallways of the GDSG building were open and full of light at night, due to the massive amount of windows. One side of a hallway was almost always made of entirely glass, which made the walks during the day quite pleasant. However, at night, it caused the hallways to appear dark and ominous, and threw strange shadows on the floor and haunted a building that needed no help to be creepier than it already was.

Brad had slipped out of his bed at the wee hours of the morning and found the room unbearably small and hot. He panicked, and found himself fumbling with the doorknob to find a way out instantly, his breath short and uneven. It wasn't until he was out of the room that he felt his nerves settle and he was able to see clearly. Cursing under his breath, he balled up his fists and ignored the taunting, shifting shadows that plagued the hallways and took a midnight walk to shake off the bedtime jitters.

Lucky for Brad, he wore long plaid pajamas and a white t-shirt to bed, so he was not running through the building half naked, nor did he have to take the time to dress before he went walking. Not that he'd bump into anybody this late at night...

Scratch that. A more prominent shadow danced across the floor and his instincts clocked on. More paranoid than usual, Brad didn't call out to the shadow, or watch, instead he full on tackled it, taking whatever it was to the ground at full force.

Of course, 'whatever it was' was just Dusky.

"Ngh. Oh. Hey, right. You're that girl from the party," Brad said vaguely, groaning a little when she knocked him in the ribs with her elbow. "Sorry, bout that. I didn't want to take any chances." He sits with his legs folded underneath him and offers a hand to her to help her up.

Brad is not phased by her annoyance, but in fact feels more comfortable about it. It made him uncomfortable when people were painfully nice, even when they didn't have to be. "Sure, you do that," he told her, when she mentioned the canaballistic pygmies. "The stupid shadows and ghosts were getting to me, I guess. Though I shouldn't really be afraid - these ghosts are more like children than they are anything truly scary."

"Children aren't that bad," Brad admitted, gruffly, "if you know how to handle them and make the bratty ones shut up." When she pointed out that tackling ghosts were not very effective, he looks the other way and knits his eyebrows, jutting out his bottom jaw in a deliberate and stubborn fashion. "It might've scared them. I don't know." He rounds on her, squinting over the rims of his glasses. "In either case, I said I'm sorry, do I have to bake you cookies or something?"

There was considerably less grumping at the idea that maybe he'd get to cook something. "Find me a kitchen with supplies, and cookies are yours to be eaten," he promises, getting to his feet and brushing himself off and straightening out his shirt.

It wasn't long before he began to follow the tiny commander, complete with horrible posture, slouched over like there was a heavy weight on his shoulders. For as primly and preppy as he dressed, his body language conveyed a completely different message to outsiders.

"You know where to go? I keep getting lost in this damn place. Too empty, too many hallways," he grumbles, hating really big buildings.

"Or just some dumb modern art or something so that at least I could use them as landmarks to remember if I've been down the goddamn hallway before," Brad grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose, and letting his glasses slide down his face in frustration. The white walls did give him a headache, but it was more tolerable while all the lights were out somehow.

"I didn't know there was an arcade..." Brad admits.