[Tate's head darts in his direction, and staring at him with a set glare. He's not scared that the man's in his head, but he's confused, more confused than he's ever been. He clenches the ball in his hand, shifting his weight. A small amount of light filters in from the windows at the mention of it being too dark, by it's not by much. Tate just wants to see who's here.]
no subject
I don't know you, so why are you here?