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A notebook. He could work with that. Not as fast as typing on his PDA, sure, but they'd taken that from his bag. And even if they had light, it was still faster than writing in the dirt. Which reminded him... the flashlight might help about now. He raised his index finger, signaling that he'd be back in a second. He ran back to his own supplies, retrieving the gun and flashlight he'd dropped, tucking the former into his pa- no, best to put it in the bag. At least for now.

It didn't take more than a minute to gather his things and return, and fortunately, Mary Ann hadn't gone anywhere. Using his shoulder to hold the light in place, he searched her bag for writing supplies. The notebook was easy enough, sitting right on top of everything else. Pencils or pens, however, were less readily apparent. He started to carefully sort through her things, scanning between the rations, the first aid kit, her extra clothes, her - oh dear. Those were... those were polka dots, all right. R.J.'s cheeks went red as he proceeded to gently tuck those in a far corner under everything else. Just keep on looking, keep on looki- aha! Fresh, unopened package of pencils. He pulled one out, before taking a seat on a nearby stump and starting to write.

He knew what he wanted to tell her, but he had a bit more trouble knowing what to say. Obviously, a simple "Hey, I killed a girl" wouldn't exactly cut it. Then again, what could? He'd done the unthinkable, and he wouldn't blame Mary Ann if she never wanted to see him again. He had to try, though. He had to tell her what he'd done. Lying by omission was still lying.

"You know that I would do anything to see you go home safe, right?"
<Mimi>: You are much nicer than I thought you'd be!
<Stark>: Shut up, fatty.
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The Cries of the Voiceless · The Felled Forest: North