"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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dmboogie
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A Delicate Machine
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Once the initial shock wore off, Harold managed to get a hold of himself. It was still terrible that Clarice had been hurt, of course, but it looked like Conrad had been able to take care of her wound as best he could, given the circumstances. Much better than Harold could've, in any case. He only really knew Conrad through Clarice, but he'd always seemed like a good dude. Harold gave him a nod as he entered the cell proper.

Before he sat down, Harold made sure to set his sword down, leaning it against the wall opposite him, close to the other two. He needed to make it clear that he didn't have any bad intentions, especially since they'd already been attacked once and probably weren't exactly keen to have a big dude with a weapon in close proximity to them, threatening or no. Even Astrid had gotten that much right. In any case, Harold settled down to listen to Clarice's story.

By the time she was done speaking, Harold felt extremely unnerved, but he still made an effort to meet her joke with a joke. "Well, I'm glad you're not quite dead." Even wounded, Clarice's spirit seemed as indomitable as ever, and Harold had to do his best to keep up. She had a gash in her shoulder, what was his excuse to mope or stammer? Still, finally having a name and face in place of the vague, amorphous mental image of killers that Harold had had in his head unsettled him. Silly as it seemed, he'd held a small hope that they'd finally be the ones to rise against Evil's games and prove them wrong once and for all, even if it did mean their deaths.

It wouldn't help anyone to dwell on that, though. If Harold ran into Nancy, he'd have to do his best to talk her down, and if that didn't work... well, he'd figure out some way to keep her from hurting anyone else.

"I've got some good news for you, at least." Harold said, hoping to brighten the mood. "Ty's with me! We split up a couple minutes ago to check this floor out, but he should be here soon. That's his sword, actually," he said, gesturing towards it. "We're both fine, and I bet we'll all feel a whole lot better once we got the whole team together in one place."
a tribute for the dead and dying

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By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you · Solitary Confinement