Corin listened out for a little, eavesdropping on the conversation. Anxious feelings bubbled up inside him; the air he was sucking into his lungs didn’t feel any good. His feet pointed towards the door, and a few times his joints started as if they were going to move into action, but didn’t. His free hand passed over his face, in the back of his mind, he briefly wondered about something inconsequential as the way he looked. He opened his mouth, and for a moment his breath would hang in his throat. There was no appropriate moment to announce his presence, so he scrunched his eyes closed and shoved the words out of his mouth.
“Paisle - Paisley.” He stammered out, shaking a little from excitement and stress. He opened his eyes again now that the moment passed.
“It’s Corin.” He moved within viewing range from the doorway, his gun was lowered and he raised his free hand up, lightly waving and then putting it on the back of his neck. He wore a nervous smile; there was an uncertainty that nagged at the back of his mind. The cold made his disposition no better, but it didn’t extinguish that little patch of optimism that he held for one of his dearest friends. The uncertainty was mostly reserved for Sarah and Pia, for them he had even less of an idea.
“I know you three are in the middle of something, but I’m here to see Paisley.”
Something about it was off, at least that was what he felt at that moment. He stepped out into the open, and he was starting to feel just a bit naked after throwing caution to the wind. He stopped to assess their faces, whether anyone was going to raise a weapon. He was ready to bolt at a sign of provocation; he desperately hoped that it wouldn’t be that way and that Paisley would be open to him.
I Played it Out
Pia moved Paisley out of her way. Sarah appreciated that. Didn't change the fact that Pia had to die for what she had done but she appreciated the gesture. Pia repeated what she'd said originally, the thing about not wanting to see her die because of something dumb. The constant statement that what she was doing was dumb had started to wear thin with Sarah. Regardless she ignored Pia; there wasn't any real point to continuing the conversation. Neither of them was going to budge from their opinion on the issue.
She was about to leave when Paisley starting speaking again. That was just what Sarah needed. She asked about Chip. Sarah looked into the bag and lifted Chip up enough so his face was visible.
"He's my mascot." She let go of Chip and let him sink back into her bag. He was also her companion but it would make her sound legitimately insane if she told anyone that. The truth however was that the road she was planning on going down meant that she would be without friends or companions for most of it. She had accepted that but it was still a painful thing to consider. Back home in Whittree she was always with a friend or a group of friends, whereas now she was purposely isolating herself from others thanks to the mission she had given herself. As Paisley was showing people would know they were travelling and working with killers but they'd still go along with it as if nothing was wrong. They would even defend them.
Sarah knew she was getting nowhere. She couldn't take Pia out with Paisley there and there was no way of convincing Paisley to leave Pia. Instead Sarah settled for moving on and revisiting Pia at a later date. She had time. Sarah started moving past the girls when another person entered the cinema. She instinctively raised the table leg but he was too far away regardless. It was Corin. He had killed someone. Sarah had no idea who the other boy had been but Corin had ended his life. She mentally added him to her list.
His appearance however was just another reason to get out of the cinema. Another gun in play made things more dangerous. Sarah was extremely aware that she was the only one of the four who lacked a firearm of any sort. It made the most strategic and safest option for her to get out. So after lowering the table leg she kept walking, bumping into Corin as she made her exit.
"Knock yourself out." She said as she pulled her hood up and went back out into the cold, searching for weaker prey.
((RBP3: Sarah Bourne continued in Everything as Cold as Life))
She was about to leave when Paisley starting speaking again. That was just what Sarah needed. She asked about Chip. Sarah looked into the bag and lifted Chip up enough so his face was visible.
"He's my mascot." She let go of Chip and let him sink back into her bag. He was also her companion but it would make her sound legitimately insane if she told anyone that. The truth however was that the road she was planning on going down meant that she would be without friends or companions for most of it. She had accepted that but it was still a painful thing to consider. Back home in Whittree she was always with a friend or a group of friends, whereas now she was purposely isolating herself from others thanks to the mission she had given herself. As Paisley was showing people would know they were travelling and working with killers but they'd still go along with it as if nothing was wrong. They would even defend them.
Sarah knew she was getting nowhere. She couldn't take Pia out with Paisley there and there was no way of convincing Paisley to leave Pia. Instead Sarah settled for moving on and revisiting Pia at a later date. She had time. Sarah started moving past the girls when another person entered the cinema. She instinctively raised the table leg but he was too far away regardless. It was Corin. He had killed someone. Sarah had no idea who the other boy had been but Corin had ended his life. She mentally added him to her list.
His appearance however was just another reason to get out of the cinema. Another gun in play made things more dangerous. Sarah was extremely aware that she was the only one of the four who lacked a firearm of any sort. It made the most strategic and safest option for her to get out. So after lowering the table leg she kept walking, bumping into Corin as she made her exit.
"Knock yourself out." She said as she pulled her hood up and went back out into the cold, searching for weaker prey.
((RBP3: Sarah Bourne continued in Everything as Cold as Life))
Pia thought about firing a shot after Sarah, just to see her jump and run and break that stupid, icy calm she'd been putting on, but Corin drew her attention before she could really decide. She'd half-raised the gun again before the silver bandanna caught her eye, and she was so surprised that she had to let out a short bark of laughter. The first teammate she'd run into here, and he was apparently the kind of guy who just walked into a potential gunfight. Nice.
"Hey," she said, for lack of anything else. "It's... Callum? Colin? Sorry if I'm butchering it, not one of my best days right now." Pia regarded him with all the interest and warmth she could muster, which wasn't much, but it was probably more than Callum-Colin-Corin would get from most everyone else. Old Triple C didn't look so hot either, and as mentioned previously, was apparently either confident enough or dumb enough to just walk into the middle of a standoff, so it was hard to picture him getting any sort of warm welcome from the people who were left in the resort.
"Paisley..." Pia looked at her, took in the slightly vague expression on her face. Her stomach twisted. "Well, it's not up to me if she wants to talk to ya or not. But we're not staying here, so I hope you're good at walking and talking without fallin' on your face." She wanted to talk to Paisley too, to apologize or something, or just to hug her friend until she came back to herself, but that would have to wait until they found a safer place to wait out the night.
She hefted her bag up on her shoulder and switched the gun to her other hand, groaning a little as she flexed her sore, cold fingers. "Let's go. My feet are killing me."
((Pia Malone continued in The Nthn Wave))
"Hey," she said, for lack of anything else. "It's... Callum? Colin? Sorry if I'm butchering it, not one of my best days right now." Pia regarded him with all the interest and warmth she could muster, which wasn't much, but it was probably more than Callum-Colin-Corin would get from most everyone else. Old Triple C didn't look so hot either, and as mentioned previously, was apparently either confident enough or dumb enough to just walk into the middle of a standoff, so it was hard to picture him getting any sort of warm welcome from the people who were left in the resort.
"Paisley..." Pia looked at her, took in the slightly vague expression on her face. Her stomach twisted. "Well, it's not up to me if she wants to talk to ya or not. But we're not staying here, so I hope you're good at walking and talking without fallin' on your face." She wanted to talk to Paisley too, to apologize or something, or just to hug her friend until she came back to herself, but that would have to wait until they found a safer place to wait out the night.
She hefted her bag up on her shoulder and switched the gun to her other hand, groaning a little as she flexed her sore, cold fingers. "Let's go. My feet are killing me."
((Pia Malone continued in The Nthn Wave))
Paisley smiled when Sarah told her the Mr. Potato Head was her mascot. "Well. I hope he cheers you on."
It didn't sound all that crazy. A tad silly, maybe, but she thought it was cute.
She did not have very long to think on Chip, though. Because she heard a voice, and it took her a minute to recognize it. It was Corin's face, not his voice, that made her remember.
Staring was considered rude, wasn't it? But Paisley didn't know what else to do. She was frozen there, body stuck, just staring. By the time she willed enough energy to move her limbs, Sarah was gone and Pia was walking out. Paisley didn't go after her. She looked at Corin again, blinking. The next ten seconds inched along at a snail's pace...
... She rubbed the sleep from her eye with the sleeve of her shirt. She was lying to herself. About the sleep in her eye. She just didn't want to tear up again. She wanted to be strong, not weak...
... Lacking the words for conversation, Paisley caught sight of Corin's wrist. The bandanna. Paisley knew the color well, about as well as her own. Something about that made her frown. She wanted to convince herself that Silver was a common color - but, no, It made her want to run after Pia and just avoid speaking to Corin altogether. He was a nice boy but he was on Pia's team. He was on Pia's team, but he was a nice boy. It was a problem that Paisley did not want to deal with, made worse by the fact that he wanted to see her. But...
...Paisley stared at Corin for a long time, or what felt like a long time. Then she smiled. Because that's what she did when she saw him in school. All of this in ten seconds.
"Hi Corin."
She glanced out the door. She hoped Pia waited for her. She hoped.
Paisley said, "Are you doing okay?"
It didn't sound all that crazy. A tad silly, maybe, but she thought it was cute.
She did not have very long to think on Chip, though. Because she heard a voice, and it took her a minute to recognize it. It was Corin's face, not his voice, that made her remember.
Staring was considered rude, wasn't it? But Paisley didn't know what else to do. She was frozen there, body stuck, just staring. By the time she willed enough energy to move her limbs, Sarah was gone and Pia was walking out. Paisley didn't go after her. She looked at Corin again, blinking. The next ten seconds inched along at a snail's pace...
... She rubbed the sleep from her eye with the sleeve of her shirt. She was lying to herself. About the sleep in her eye. She just didn't want to tear up again. She wanted to be strong, not weak...
... Lacking the words for conversation, Paisley caught sight of Corin's wrist. The bandanna. Paisley knew the color well, about as well as her own. Something about that made her frown. She wanted to convince herself that Silver was a common color - but, no, It made her want to run after Pia and just avoid speaking to Corin altogether. He was a nice boy but he was on Pia's team. He was on Pia's team, but he was a nice boy. It was a problem that Paisley did not want to deal with, made worse by the fact that he wanted to see her. But...
...Paisley stared at Corin for a long time, or what felt like a long time. Then she smiled. Because that's what she did when she saw him in school. All of this in ten seconds.
"Hi Corin."
She glanced out the door. She hoped Pia waited for her. She hoped.
Paisley said, "Are you doing okay?"
Sarah passed him and left, he looked sourly at her as she bumped past him but let her pass. It was just the way that Pia spoke to him that made him detest her, he didn't correct her though as he wasn't sure if he could maintain a cordial tone with her yet. He looked at Paisley in the hopes that she would at least be a little more amiable. He was growing tense through the ten seconds that it was taking for her to speak up. He vaguely wondered if maybe, it was a mistake to show himself to her after all. He didn’t know if she wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see her, he’d been too caught up in his own wishes that he’d even gone out of his way to toss himself out in the open.
He couldn’t read her expression; he was feeling ill with the thought that she might turn him away. In the back of his head he was silently pleading with her to not brush him off and leave him alone. He was swept over with a wave of disappointment; Pia was his team mate and not Paisley. His expression was sombre and the colour had drained from his face, he thought that he was setting one of them up for a heart ache - himself specifically.
“Paisley,” his voice was pitched a bit too high.
“I’m doing fucking horrible.” He croaked out.
He tried to force a smile to match hers, but he couldn’t. So he just stopped trying, instead bringing a hand up to his face to hide the hurt expression he was pulling. He just wanted them to click like they did at school, just for a brief moment of emotional relief. He didn't even know he was allowed to approach her at this point.
“I’m sorry; I don’t have anything good to say. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
He couldn’t read her expression; he was feeling ill with the thought that she might turn him away. In the back of his head he was silently pleading with her to not brush him off and leave him alone. He was swept over with a wave of disappointment; Pia was his team mate and not Paisley. His expression was sombre and the colour had drained from his face, he thought that he was setting one of them up for a heart ache - himself specifically.
“Paisley,” his voice was pitched a bit too high.
“I’m doing fucking horrible.” He croaked out.
He tried to force a smile to match hers, but he couldn’t. So he just stopped trying, instead bringing a hand up to his face to hide the hurt expression he was pulling. He just wanted them to click like they did at school, just for a brief moment of emotional relief. He didn't even know he was allowed to approach her at this point.
“I’m sorry; I don’t have anything good to say. I wanted to see if you were okay.”
(hope no one saw that Gm approved by the way.)
She waited a moment before responding. It was a sad moment, characterized by averting eyes and fidgeting hands.
"... Yeah," Paisley smiled, warmer than before, not forced, "I'm a fucking mess too. We all are. I think."
Paisley was not one to curse. It was Corin's answer that set her off. But she did not curse in anger, and when she reached for the rest of the things, she kept her eyes on his. He came to see her? It was flattering to say the least. As she turned back towards him, she paused, lips pursing. She studied Corin.
They met in art class. Corin, so of course they got on. She never thought too deeply about him though. Her interests were elsewhere, of course. If Corin was disappointed or angry he never showed it. He was always nice. Shy, nervous, maybe, but nice all the same. Paisley appreciated that about him. Could she call him a friend? She wasn't sure. She wanted to, in that moment. It made things easier.
She smiled again.
"You know," Paisley said, "you were always a nice boy."
Then she did something that shocked even her. She shouldered her bag, dropped the gun and grabbed him by the lapels. Paisley Hopkins was eighteen years old and her first kiss was with Corin Albanesi.
There was no love, not on her side. Paisley did not want to die kissless. Paisley could handle dying a virgin. Expected it, even. But kissless? The thought made her want to curl up into a ball. Theoretically it could have been any boy. Preferably someone cute and sweet and kind and who wouldn't try to push Paisley into going further. In truth she wasn't about to kiss just anyone. There was a name at the tip of her brain, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, but Vahka smashed those hopes with a mallet. So she found someone close. Someone she liked. He was no soccer player, sure, but Corin was cute in his own way, and he was always nice. Paisley was glad he was there, and that he wanted to see her. It made things easier. She prayed to Jesus, Mary and Joseph he did not freak out, pull away and mutter something about how it "wasn't going to work" or how there was "somebody else". She would die if that happened. Just drop like a fly.
He didn't pull away, though.
She was thankful for that.
The kiss was nice, too. She thought it was nice.
Her heart did not throb and her body did not melt. But the butterflies in her stomach fluttered. She figured that was a good sign.
But that made what came next all the more crushing.
Harder to bear.
But she had to do it.
She let go of his jacket. She took a step back. Once she did, her demeanor changed. Gone was the smile that stitched it's way across her lips, replaced by misty eyes and smooth lips.
"But I don't think we can be friends. I'm sorry."
Then Paisley shouldered her bag and left.
She did not want him to stop her, not even to say goodbye. She figured the farewell was implied. Implicit. Clear-cut. Crystal. Corin would understand, surely. It wasn't like they were going out or anything. He would understand.
She realized that her actions were strange and illogical but there was nothing to be done. Paisley hoped he wouldn't follow her. Something in the pit of her chest told her that he would, though. Pia would handle it, she told herself. They were killers. Pia could handle anything that Paisley wanted no part of.
(Paisley Hopkins continued in The Nthn Wave)
She waited a moment before responding. It was a sad moment, characterized by averting eyes and fidgeting hands.
"... Yeah," Paisley smiled, warmer than before, not forced, "I'm a fucking mess too. We all are. I think."
Paisley was not one to curse. It was Corin's answer that set her off. But she did not curse in anger, and when she reached for the rest of the things, she kept her eyes on his. He came to see her? It was flattering to say the least. As she turned back towards him, she paused, lips pursing. She studied Corin.
They met in art class. Corin, so of course they got on. She never thought too deeply about him though. Her interests were elsewhere, of course. If Corin was disappointed or angry he never showed it. He was always nice. Shy, nervous, maybe, but nice all the same. Paisley appreciated that about him. Could she call him a friend? She wasn't sure. She wanted to, in that moment. It made things easier.
She smiled again.
"You know," Paisley said, "you were always a nice boy."
Then she did something that shocked even her. She shouldered her bag, dropped the gun and grabbed him by the lapels. Paisley Hopkins was eighteen years old and her first kiss was with Corin Albanesi.
There was no love, not on her side. Paisley did not want to die kissless. Paisley could handle dying a virgin. Expected it, even. But kissless? The thought made her want to curl up into a ball. Theoretically it could have been any boy. Preferably someone cute and sweet and kind and who wouldn't try to push Paisley into going further. In truth she wasn't about to kiss just anyone. There was a name at the tip of her brain, Marcus, Marcus, Marcus, but Vahka smashed those hopes with a mallet. So she found someone close. Someone she liked. He was no soccer player, sure, but Corin was cute in his own way, and he was always nice. Paisley was glad he was there, and that he wanted to see her. It made things easier. She prayed to Jesus, Mary and Joseph he did not freak out, pull away and mutter something about how it "wasn't going to work" or how there was "somebody else". She would die if that happened. Just drop like a fly.
He didn't pull away, though.
She was thankful for that.
The kiss was nice, too. She thought it was nice.
Her heart did not throb and her body did not melt. But the butterflies in her stomach fluttered. She figured that was a good sign.
But that made what came next all the more crushing.
Harder to bear.
But she had to do it.
She let go of his jacket. She took a step back. Once she did, her demeanor changed. Gone was the smile that stitched it's way across her lips, replaced by misty eyes and smooth lips.
"But I don't think we can be friends. I'm sorry."
Then Paisley shouldered her bag and left.
She did not want him to stop her, not even to say goodbye. She figured the farewell was implied. Implicit. Clear-cut. Crystal. Corin would understand, surely. It wasn't like they were going out or anything. He would understand.
She realized that her actions were strange and illogical but there was nothing to be done. Paisley hoped he wouldn't follow her. Something in the pit of her chest told her that he would, though. Pia would handle it, she told herself. They were killers. Pia could handle anything that Paisley wanted no part of.
(Paisley Hopkins continued in The Nthn Wave)
She left Corin standing there in the lobby of the Cinema; he cupped his mouth with a hand and looked down at his shoes, just thinking for a moment.
He had always wanted to be in a relationship with Paisley Hopkins, but could never bring his courage up to even suggest such a thing, or get past the feelings of inadequacy that he had always had about himself. He thought that one day he might tell her, but the fear of rejection always spurred him away from the topic.
The joy of the moment was tainted; he could not enjoy it because of the nagging in the back of his head. All the negative aspects, the death, how everything was going to inevitably fall apart like it just did. He knew better, but he still let her pull in in for that kiss. He now ached with regret because suddenly there was a layer of complexity.
He could see himself shaking there in the middle of the lobby, but it wasn’t the cold.
He was experiencing a blend of emotions not unlike hatred, fear and vulnerability.
She was supposed to stay with him, somehow he thought that this event would solidify and anchor something inside him so that he could wear on through until the end. He didn’t understand her, he was bitter that she thought she could raise him up and throw him back down again. He just wanted a sense of solidarity, but instead found himself questioning whether she truly had any thoughts for him, if the game had spurred her into making unwise decisions, or worst of all: the possibility that it was intentional.
Still, he had some questions, and he had a piece of his mind to give her. She explicitly told him to not follow her, but he was so livid that he didn’t care what she said just then. He was so frustrated that he felt like he could snap that he could just lash out at anything in front of him, he’d been dancing on the end of a rope for a long while and he could even tell where the end was anymore.
He had sort of gotten what he wanted but the dream fell short and bitter and there was no consolation.
He knew it was the worst decision he could possibly make, but he took up his rifle, trying to follow whatever tracks she had made in the snow.
“Just an explanation, please.” The words mingled with the regrets inside of his head as he left.
((Corin Albanesi: Continued elsewhere.))
He had always wanted to be in a relationship with Paisley Hopkins, but could never bring his courage up to even suggest such a thing, or get past the feelings of inadequacy that he had always had about himself. He thought that one day he might tell her, but the fear of rejection always spurred him away from the topic.
The joy of the moment was tainted; he could not enjoy it because of the nagging in the back of his head. All the negative aspects, the death, how everything was going to inevitably fall apart like it just did. He knew better, but he still let her pull in in for that kiss. He now ached with regret because suddenly there was a layer of complexity.
He could see himself shaking there in the middle of the lobby, but it wasn’t the cold.
He was experiencing a blend of emotions not unlike hatred, fear and vulnerability.
She was supposed to stay with him, somehow he thought that this event would solidify and anchor something inside him so that he could wear on through until the end. He didn’t understand her, he was bitter that she thought she could raise him up and throw him back down again. He just wanted a sense of solidarity, but instead found himself questioning whether she truly had any thoughts for him, if the game had spurred her into making unwise decisions, or worst of all: the possibility that it was intentional.
Still, he had some questions, and he had a piece of his mind to give her. She explicitly told him to not follow her, but he was so livid that he didn’t care what she said just then. He was so frustrated that he felt like he could snap that he could just lash out at anything in front of him, he’d been dancing on the end of a rope for a long while and he could even tell where the end was anymore.
He had sort of gotten what he wanted but the dream fell short and bitter and there was no consolation.
He knew it was the worst decision he could possibly make, but he took up his rifle, trying to follow whatever tracks she had made in the snow.
“Just an explanation, please.” The words mingled with the regrets inside of his head as he left.
((Corin Albanesi: Continued elsewhere.))