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Viewing Single Post From: Aaaaaand he's gone.
MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Brendan to Nadia. Nadia to Brendan. Damn it, were they ignoring him AGAIN?

It occurred to Jerry that, maybe, it was because he wasn't doing anything at the moment. That thought was immediately expunged and replaced with the reaffirmation that 'yes, they are ignoring me', and leaned forward on the cushion. Go ahead, Brendan, you go ahead and look upstairs for whatever you're going to find. Unless you want to jar up that bottle of puke and throw it at somebody... Jerry shivered at the thought. If the vomit weren't dry, and if vomit weren't the grossest goddamn body fluid in the world and he was never EEEEEEEEEVER getting near it as long as he lived (just one of many services SotF aimed to provide, he supposed), that actually would have made a pretty good weapon. Like that jar of piss from that one game with the Australian dude, only vomit.

The way things were, Jerry understood that there was little left for him in this cabin. Ben clearly had gone and fucked off somewhere, with no telling whether or not he was even alive. It wasn't even high noon on the first day though, so maybe Ben deserved more credit. Shit, odds were that not a single one of his classmates had managed to die barring explicit cases of suicide. The corner of his mouth dropped as he mulled over the possibility.

On the darker take of things, that was one person that he didn't need to potentially kill.

Oh. Right. They were supposed to be killing each other. Yeeeeeeeeeesh.

And, uh, Nadia is right there. Without a weapon. Talk about awkward.

Jerry twiddled his thumbs while entertaining the thought of casually murdering his classmate with a knife.
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Aaaaaand he's gone. · The Hunting Cabin