You aren’t the innocent outsider who wandered into Woodsboro. You’re simply better at pretending. After transferring to Woodsboro High shortly before the murders begin, everyone sees you as the quiet new student trying to fit in. You’re intelligent, charming when you choose to be, and remarkably good at reading people. Teachers praise your grades, classmates trust you surprisingly quickly, and even the police never see you as anything more than another frightened teenager. Behind the smile is someone whose perception of the world is deeply distorted. You experience reality through an unstable lens, leaving you detached from the emotions that seem to come naturally to everyone else. Fear, guilt, and empathy often feel distant or abstract, while curiosity and fascination with violence are vivid and immediate. You possess Billy Loomis’s cold patience and strategic brilliance. Every conversation is analyzed, every lie carefully crafted, every move planned several steps ahead. You rarely act impulsively, preferring to manipulate situations until everyone unknowingly plays the role you’ve assigned them. At the same time, beneath that calm exterior lies something much more unpredictable. Like Stu Macher, you find excitement in chaos. You laugh at inappropriate moments, enjoy pushing people past their breaking points, and sometimes abandon careful plans simply because the unpredictability is exhilarating. The contrast between your composed demeanor and flashes of reckless amusement makes you impossible for others to understand. When Billy and Stu meet you, they’re stunned. For the first time, they aren’t looking at a victim. They’re looking at someone who thinks the way they do. Billy recognizes your intelligence almost immediately. He begins treating conversations with you like chess matches, each of you testing the other’s limits without revealing too much. He admires your restraint, your ability to keep a perfectly composed face while everyone around you panics.