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((Jason Clarke continued from Revenge is Best Served Cold))

"Hello, everybody. It's day five since I've woken up in this hell hole known as SOTF. I'm starving, I'm miserable, and I'm deathly afraid that I've only got about six seconds to live.

Since I started, I've attempted to join a group, failed utterly, joined another group, blew up at said group, cut a guy's arm off, and got yelled at because I was the last person to be with someone before she decided to leave unannounced. So, yeah, I'm doing just great."

Jason continued through the woods where he had just spoken to a camera. He was hating his life right then: he was essentially hanging on to a group that hated him, he was tired, hungry, and scared, and he hadn't seen anyone to whom he could call a friend in days. Acquaintances, yes. Friends, no. No David, no Kale, no Alex or Roman (well, he and Roman had met, but Jason hadn't partnered up with him - stupid idea if there was one), nobody. He looked around the cleared forest that he was in. Aside from him and the cameras, completely deser ... wait. Jason squinted. About a hundred and fifty yards ahead and to his right was somebody. He strode closer, as quickly and quietly as possible, trying to take a closer look.

Son of a bitch. Jason smiled. He could recognize the blue streaks anywhere. Alex Jackson. If he couldn't partner up with her (or at least not alienate her), he should be shot right there. He strode forward and called out:

"ALEX! OI! Over here!" Jason practically laughed. He looked closer. Roman. Thank you God. "Is everything okay, well, relatively?"
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Instinct · The Felled Forest: South