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Mr. Danya
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Matt didn’t really answer him, and that did nothing to help Nate feel any better. He didn’t back away when Matt took a seat, as Nate slowly accustomed to his company, but he still couldn’t relax either. Considering the situation though, who could blame him?

He watched Matt grip his head in his hands, as he rubbed the tears out of his own eyes. He didn’t want to keep crying, he never liked crying, but he knew that he was so stupid when it came to his emotions sometimes and keeping himself under control. Seeing someone else struggling stirred something in Nate, though, something that let him stop focusing on himself for just a moment and hold back the tears.

He could never stand to be around unhappy people. He just wanted everyone to get along and feel okay, even if that was naíve. Suffering was a part of life, but that didn't mean he couldn't do something to help.

When Matt produced his ‘weapon’, Nate had to take a moment to realise just what he meant. He really hadn’t given any thought to whether someone could get assigned something good or assigned something bad; he’d woken up with a stick, some people had guns, that was all there was to it. Still, it seemed almost unfair, like Matt had gotten even worse luck than him.

He needed to do something to make Matt feel better.

“I guess…” he sniffed again, trying to put on a straight face.

“I guess they really wanted to stick it to us?”
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Dear God · Crematorium Chapel