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That's Just Crazy Talk
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(George Leidman continued from No Crying Allowed)

In retrospect, George felt that he was better off without Maria and Cass. He was going through enough crud of his own without having to sift through someone else's putrid filth. If Maria was going to go nuts, then he had no obligations whatsoever to deal with it. Given how quickly people were dying on this island, he knew that he didn't have much time to find Sebastian before he killed somebody or was killed himself. The first would be terrible. The second...kind of 'meh,' actually. Yes, 'meh' was the right word for it. Carly needed to be avenged, certainly, but if someone else got it into their little heads to do it for George, then that was fine by him. Just so long as Sebastian didn't make it off this island alive.

Vengeance was a harsh thing to think about, really. George had never been one to commit to much of anything in his life, and having a specific goal was a bit of a change of pace. He wasn't sure that he really enjoyed the thought of murdering somebody, and the more he walked around dragging a chair behind him, the more apparent it came that he just wasn't the murdering type. Avenging, certainly, that was something he could do. But murder? Barring the standard moral issues behind the taking of a human life, killing somebody was probably a lot harder than they made it seem in the movies. Targeting people outright was far too much effort for not enough payoff.

And so it was that when George came across Remy Kim, looking into a pond, he just casually approached him, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto the wooden chair that was scratching against the ground. He'd considered turning the chair into some wooden stakes, but had realized upon looking at it that it would be suitable enough the way it was. It wasn't really that heavy, just a little tedious to carry around.

As George came closer, he saw something metal in the man's hand. Though he craned his head to get a better look, he was a tad too late, as Remy had already stowed the metal thingie away. George's guess was that it was a knife of some kind. That was fine. A chair was longer than a knife, so he only had to keep the guy from closing in. Simple, eh?

"Yo!" he called out, stopping a short distance away and planting the chair on the ground. "You wouldn't have seen Sebastian Descartes around lately, would you have? My friend here has an appointment with his face." He flashed the fellow a bit of a grin, which, given that he was still caked over with dirt and all scraped up still, wasn't really that comforting.
Edited by Blastinus, Feb 11 2011, 11:23 AM.
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