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Viewing Single Post From: Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte
MurderWeasel
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That boy needs therapy!
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"I'm fine," Adam said. Maynard took a few steps in his direction. The boy looked a good deal worse for the wear. It made Adam glad he'd taken a few moments to get himself straightened out. His image was important, especially in a place where looking soft could get someone killed. Maybe he'd need that cigarette sooner than he'd thought.

Another voice called out, and Adam spared a glance for its source. Natali Greer, someone else he knew of more than knew. She didn't seem to be causing trouble, though, so she was good in his book. He gave her a nod.

"'sup, Natali?" he said. If they were gonna play casual, he could do that. He'd be cool as a cucumber. They were all cool, no murder going on. Not yet. Maybe they'd all be real cool for a whole day and explode all at once. That didn't sound so good to Adam, but he wasn't really sure the alternative beat it. The kids who came out of this, they were pretty messed up, as far as he knew. Hadn't one killed some guy after getting loose, and ended up in jail? The recollections were frustratingly vague.

And here he was, messing up and thinking again. He focused on the sand, so bright in the sunlight, on the sea, on the crash of the waves and the call of a few gulls. There weren't as many here as back home. Probably not enough garbage for them to eat.

"You guys holding up alright?" he asked, returning his attention to the other two, thoughts sufficiently stifled for the moment. Maynard clearly wasn't holding up alright, but Adam wasn't the sort of dick who'd rub the guy's face in it. Better to offer him the chance to fake like it was all okay. Adam took a little closer look at him. Were his pants wet? He tried to keep his expression blank. Thank goodness for practice. He really hoped his time on this wretched island wouldn't all smell like piss, though. That wasn't going to make getting murdered or blown up or whatever any less awful.

The sword kept on bouncing against Adam's leg, tap tap tap. It wasn't quite rhythmic, but hey, he had more important stuff on his mind than keeping a beat.
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Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte · Shelson's Beach