When Pitchiner steps through the door to where the indoor pool lies, there are several things he notes immediately. The lights are very bright, blindingly so, that any standing in the area like him can be immediately noted like a blemish on a clear face. There's not much he can do about anything here, but Pitchiner takes stock of everything around him before making any kind of noise.

And when he does so, he first retrieves the memory stick from a pocket unseen on his person to hold it up in plain sight. No need to be viewed as any more of a threat than Frost knew he was.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance" this word was spit out, mainly hatred for the action that Pitchiner couldn't help but portray, " – all to distract me from this." He waggles the memory stick and carefully catalogues the area around him for any sort of movement. This was key. Knowledge was power, and when he did not have the upper hand, he had to find a handhold to drag himself up and out of the dark.

When he notices that it is Aster that walks through the door, he freezes, his mind whizzing faster than he can even speak - and horrifically, things seem to match up, connect. The puzzle has been put together, and the image has turned out to be his flatmate. Pitchiner can only blink at his now once- flatmate as he begins to speak.

"Good Evening." Pitch doesn't think it's good at all, is staring at the grey haired man standing before him, noting how the grey always seems to look a little blue and keeps the rage at bay swirling like black horses in the stables of his mind palace.

"This is quite the turn-up, isn't it, Pitch?" Pitchiner notes the shortened name and the horses start rattling the gates, wishing to escape.

"What…? Aster…" Pitchiner can feel his eloquence slip away by the second. His hand feels weak, and he has the inordinate urge to stuff his hands in his pockets even though he hasn't done that since he was forced into grade school and he wouldn't start now.

"Bet you never saw this coming." Pitch takes a step forward, in confusion or despair or anger, Pitchiner doesn't particularly know.

And then Aster opens the jacket he was wearing to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest, and Pitch's horses stop attempting to be free and instead buck and kick, whiny at the fear Pitchiner internalized. If it wasn't Aster, then who was it? Aster is staring at him, eyes scared and small and tired, and Pitchiner absentmindedly recognizes the slight symptoms of his shoulder acting up. His leg wouldn't act up in this adrenaline, and his shoulder wouldn't stop him if he wanted to - could fight, but it was still acting up.

"What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?"

Pitch looks around the room, while taking a few subconscious steps toward his flatmate, as if he could protect him in this moment of pure fear.

"Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer." Aster is afraid. Pitchiner can sense it, can tell so easily what is so frightening to Aster and he wishes he could make it go away until it isn't so frightening but he has no experience in such a thing, only making people afraid of him.

"Stop it." He tries.

"Nice touch, this: The pool where little Jamie died. I stopped him." Aster takes a fortifying breath and then cuts it off to continue narrating what was being told to him. "And I can stop E. Aster Bunnymund too. Stop his heart." Aster glances down at his chest to look at the red dot on the bomb and looks back up. Pitchiner doesn't want him to die.

"Who are you?"

"I gave you my number. Thought you might call me back." The words didn't come from Aster but instead from the doorway that had been closed moments ago. And through it stepped Jack. Jack in a full three piece suit, seemingly fitted on him to sit on his skin - hiding everything and nothing. His hair was white, though, and it looked perfectly natural, even though the boy-man wasn't albino or anything.

Pitchiner tugged on mental strands connecting pieces and flipped over the original puzzle to provide the true answer. Of course. The puzzle was double sided. That's what went wrong. But this man was different from the boyfriend mirage he had seen before. This creature was deadly, poised and ready. His walk was a dance, like he was too light to stick to the ground and didn't feel like flying.

Most of all, he was cold, his smile chilling and his gaze freezing.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket," Pitchiner pulled it out quickly. This man didn't seem like he would be afraid of anything, like he was a spirit that had seen too much and didn't care anymore, but it didn't hurt to try. "Or are you just happy to see me?" His smile took a mocking tone.

"Both."

"Jack Frost. Hi!" He childishly waves his right hand as his smile grows bigger, pearl white teeth glinting in the blinding light. In this light, Jack looks like an innocent angel standing before two dangerous people. If you didn't look into his eyes. Back in reality, he must have spent too long contemplating the man. He was frowning a little now.

"Jack? From the hospital?" He then continued, as if Pitchiner didn't remember Jack. "Frost like the genius you've been chasing?" Aster felt the need to scoff, but he didn't want to be killed on a whim.

Jack's frown deepened. "Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression?" Jack spun around, staring at the ceiling before looking right at Pitch and shrugging, the icicles in his eyes melting into perfect snowflakes. "But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

The red dot on Aster's chest reappeared from where it had disappeared at some point beforehand. Pitch glanced at him to reaffirm what he had seen in the corner of his eye before looking pointedly at Jack, who looked back with big wondering eyes.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." He waggles his hands in front of him as he practically skips toward Pitch's side of the pool. Seemingly mid-jump, he stops and turns to look at Pitchiner, a necklace of a shepherd's crook hanging from his neck now that Pitchiner can see it.

"I've given you a glimpse, Pitch, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see …" The lights around the three of them seem brighter, that much more glaring, like it had been reflecting off of pure white snow the entire time.

He then childishly raises a finger as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. "Like you!"

Pitchiner, without breaking his gaze with Jack, starts speaking again. "Dear Jack. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?"

Jack smiles, like his favorite show had come on and he had settled in front of the TV right on time.

"Dear Jack. Please, will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

Jack looked even more pleased, his eyes closing part of the way as he leaned on one foot.
"Just so."

Pitchiner took a few steps forward. "Consulting criminal." Jack looked inordinately happy. Under his breath, Pitchiner continued. "Brilliant." Aster looked horrified. He would have spoken but there was a red dot still on his chest, so he kept quiet.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets me - and no-one ever will."

Pitchiner cocks the gun - a fluid motion like slinking into darkness and shadows. "I did."

Jack smiled, unafraid, waving him off. "You've come the closest." He stopped, and looked back up at Pitchiner with a serious look on his face. "Now you're just in the way."

"Thank you."

Jack's brow furrowed. "I didn't mean that as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

Jack thinks about it for a second, his eyes wandering to the well lit ceiling and shrugged. "Yeah, okay, I did. But the snowballs and fun times are over, Pitch… or, at least for you." He smiles and steps closer, his voice high but quiet, carried over to the two seemingly by the wind. "Daddy's had enough now!"