"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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Namira
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Null sheen.
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The laughter faded, although it had been ringing hollow in the first instance. Brock let out a sigh and looked up at the sky, much of which was visible through gaps in the tree cover. There was some natural beauty, if you cared to look for it, but that was more or less lost on Brock. He wasn't in the mood to be appreciating the marvels of the scenary. He mind had just returned to cursing his inability to read the instructions for his weapon when a voice snapped him from his thoughts.

Brock looked over at the newcomer without much interest. He made no move towards picking up the pistol. No sense in antagonising somebody with a weapon that he couldn't fall back on. Hunt, the kid from Canada. If he thought hard, he remembered vaguely that he was involved in the drama club. Oh yeah, the guy was gay too, not that it particularly mattered. The important thing was that whilst he was packing a knife, Hunt didn't look like he'd be much a threat. That was good, even if Brock was going to die, he was in no mood to hasten that event.

He was a little surprised to hear Hunt (what was his first name? Brock couldn't recall) make such a plea, at least at first, but then he reconsidered. Why wouldn't he be scared? Hell, Brock was scared and he had a gun (albeit one he couldn't use, but... still). Confronted with somebody as big and strong as Brock, well, it wasn't a massive shock, ultimately, that Hunt had hit a panic switch.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds after the other guy spoke, then gave a hefty shrug. "I ain't gonna attack you. Don't plan to go after anyone, really. Gonna die soon enough without inviting it on, anyhow."
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Words Can't Bring Me Down · The Woods: Coastal