"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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Internet de geso~
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Milo sighed.

"What a helpful God-damned answer. You know, if you make it off this island you should be a fucking private investigator or something, what with your amazing deductive skills. I'm totally not being sarcastic right now, either," he said.

Time to bug the leader guy. Maybe he'll be a little more helpful.

Milo walked up to the guy who he vaguely recalled addressing as "leader-bro," and paused for a second. He then smacked himself, hard, in the face as punishment for saying "leader-bro" at any point in the past. The man appeared to be talking to someone he didn't recognize, but this was much more important as it concerned him and not them.

"Hey, uh, leader person whose name I don't know. What the actual fuck have I been doing over the past couple of days?" he asked loudly, deliberately interrupting their obviously unimportant conversation.
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Quoth Super Llama:
One day, the fabled Ragnarok will come, and as the gods descend to earth and wage war while the world dies around them, WickedIcon will lead the charge, a 12-gauge shotgun in his right hand, and a bottle of Jack Daniels in his left as he rides a steed made of fire and pain.

And the masses will look upon him and weep at the beauty of it all.

[19:25] Hallucinogenic: it's not like i wanna put my anus on parade

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No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan · The Felled Forest: North