Crane raises a spindly finger at her. Dorothea's defiance seems to energize him, and he lets out a low, mocking chuckle. "There it is." He asks, taking another step towards her. "Do you feel it? The pounding of your heart, the blood rushing through your ears. Your eyes dilating to take in more light and allow better vision of your surroundings, for whatever good it will do you here. Your muscles tensing, priming for action. It's called the flight or fight response Miss Arnault, one of the oldest survival instincts baked into the human psyche. In a single second, when confronted with a threat, your body prepares itself to either run...or confront." He cocks his head to one side, examining her. "I must admit I'm somewhat impressed you've chosen not to run. But, please believe me when I tell you it won't matter. I have made the study of fear my life's work, after all." Not once does Crane raise his voice, continuing in that calm, almost professor-like tone, as though he was conducting a class.

"There's no need for such false bravado. Surely you must understand the time for that has passed. It's just you and me here."

Crane's life may be about to be snuffed out by the darkness to join his world in eternal sleep, but it seems fate has been kind enough to provide him one last chance to do what he does best before oblivion claims him; to spread terror for terror's own sake.

"It's okay to be afraid."