"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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Blastinus
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That's Just Crazy Talk
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(Skipping Moth for purposes of avoiding inactivity)

Even in his grumpy state, George had jumped reflexively at the sound of gunfire, diving to the grass as if he had been shot out of a cannon. Pulling himself to his feet, he was about to ask whether anything was okay when he saw Duncan and the wounds in Duncan's back. "Oh no...no please no!" he exclaimed mostly to himself, but as he was about to see if the man was okay, Maria interceded. For some reason, watching the two of them share their last words froze George in his tracks, and he instead looked around for the person who had fired the shots. Nothing. If the shooter was still lurking around, he-or she, George reminded himself-was hidden well, or had decided to move.

Turning back at Maria and Duncan, he saw the two of them going inside the house he had just left, and Maria setting Duncan on a bed. "Maria, I...I'm sorry," George said, barely able to talk. Only then did he notice that he had started tearing up, and wiped them away hurriedly to hide it. He couldn't be seen acting weak, now that Maria had lost someone who had obviously been a close companion. Also, the shooter could still be around, and hard as it was, George realized that he had to keep stock of the situation. "Whoever shot him is going to regret it," he murmured, also to himself, and hoisted the chair above his head like a club.

"You hear me?!" he shouted to the general area, "Whoever did this, you're dead!" Turning to talk to Maria, George said to her, "Maria, did Duncan have any sort of a weapon? Someone's hunting us, and all I have is this to fight with!" He waved the chair for emphasis. For George, the game had gone on long enough, and he wanted to end it. Even if it involved hunting down every killer on the island, he'd do it. He swore it.
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