"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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NotAFlyingToy
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Southern motherfuckin' democratic republicans.
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Something spiked in his blood when she asked to see his kit, but he nodded it away, willed it away. Revealing what was in his bag - beyond the rations and the medkit that came standard, naturally - wouldn't go very far in the theme of this interaction.

Keep the peace, prevent this whole thing from melting down around him immediately.

"Sure," he said, brightly, "no, yeah. I get that. Here,"

He turned to his bag, then, opening it halfway and reaching inside it, carefully. His fingers brushed it as he retrieved the box, slid it out from the bag, and closed it shut again, taking an extra moment to smooth it closed, giving the appearance of fussing.

Oskar handed the box over, then - glancing on the ground first - sat beside Caedyn, stretching his legs out and tucking the bag behind him.

"How bad is it, doc?"
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God Help the Outcasts · Crematorium Gardens