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He rolled his eyes as she mentioned the teddy bear, but at the same time, he felt a tinge of sympathy. She reminded him of his own children, in a way. The ones he had killed. He then looked to the man she was dragging him towards. The one with the shotgun earlier. He shook his head, coming to a...

"Hm. I'm glad you're up for it, then. You seem less irritating than my former 'partners'." He said, referring to the people he had talked to for about a total of five minutes. "Come, let's try to make our way to that hospital. Is anything broken?"

He nodded in agreement, "I'm quite surprised we did. Care to stick by my side? It may be useful for both of our chances of survival."

He heard the loud quake, and was almost somewhat familiar with it. The moment he felt his body start to plunge towards the floor, he knew what had happened. But before he could think another thought, he blacked out. The first thing Mandus thought when he awoke, was that he was lucky to be...

"You kill me and everyone in this place will want your head on a pike. No one likes murderers," he said, ironically. Though really, he didn't quite care if he shot him. To Mandus, this was like a game of heads or tails. Neither outcome particularly pleased or displeased him.

He looked at the shotgun barrel, "I believe she had just agreed to let me keep the gun." He looked over to Debra, "Kindly call your Prince off, yes? Murder will do us no good."

He shook his head, "I'm afraid I can't. And punching me will not do any of us any good. It will only result in you getting shot, and me likely getting assaulted afterwards." He looked away from her, "We're both fighting the same fight, the only difference now is that I've made my chances better...

"No," he said, simply and coldly. "For too long I've suffered having to run from things far stronger than me, with no method of defending myself. I do not intend on continuing this tradition. I need this, I deserve this, more than you do," he said as he looked her in the eyes.

"I'm afraid you already did." He jiggled the gun in his pocket. He could no longer run a factory to process humans into meat, but tricking them into handing over their weapons was the next best thing.

"Yes, essentially, that is our situation. We are pigs for the slaughter." He then noticed her reach back for her weapon, rolling his eyes. "I assumed, miss, that when you handed it over, you were aware that it was a gift."

(I'm sorry for the OOC, but I'm not sure where you got the idea of Mandus being a young boy. He's in his forties.) Her tone almost seemed condescending to him, "I am Oswald Mandus. But please, call me Mandus." He gently tried to get the gun into his pocket, resting his lantern in his lap.

He groaned a bit, "Do not doubt for a moment that I know what I'm doing. Perhaps that would not be the worst solution anyways." He set the gun by his side, planning to keep it.

"What is the point of a gun, if you do not pull the trigger?" He asked, taking it out of her hand and looking it over.

His face contorted into a bemused look as she commented on his knowledge of her weapon. He knew what guns were, he just hadn't seen one that looked like hers before. He reached his hand out, grasping the handle, but not pulling on it, as if to ask if he could have it. "Right, Debra. May I see...

He took the generous offer and sat next to her, holding back a grimace when she wiped her eyes. What right did she have to cry if he wasn't? "I suppose you could say that, yes. Not only do I seem to be lost in my mind, but also in spirit. As if this whole ordeal has taken a part of my soul and...

Mandus spotted the lone woman, and something told him that she was just as disoriented as he was. This whole situation was throwing him through a loop, especially since he was never used to being around crowds that he couldn't control with the pull of a lever or the press of a button. He walked...

Mandus looked slowly around the museum that he had been forced into. To him, the place looked absolutely stunning, like nothing he had ever seen before, and he couldn't help but marvel at mammoth bones. But then he reminded himself, that the beauty of this place only served to juxtapose the...

The fuck are you?

Oswald Mandus. from Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs.