Symon fumes at his phone for a good few moments. "Prank? PRANK? My work is terror - it is horror, it is art... it's not some... whoopie cushion. He manages to calm down when he remembers he is, after all, requesting a favor. A somewhat disgusted shake of his head at the horn-dogginess of the last message, before responding more tactically, "Scary if possible. Lovecraft will help. Thinking heart attacks over hard ons."