That fucking sick bitch.
[[Joel Foster continued from The Horse I Never Got For Christmas]]
Time had passed since Joel had left Orion to rest. A lot of time. Enough time for him to really think about things. Think about what had happened. And how it could happen.
And he wanted to scream.
She had played him. She had played all of them. She acted like she was innocent, like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, only to fucking poison Orion! And then had the gall to act scared when he drank it! The fucking psycho!
He knew it was on purpose. It had to be. Nora was always careful with her utensils and shit. She had to wash them a bunch to make sure she didn’t accidentally poison anyone with leftover spit. Hell, he was pretty sure she had her own utensils and mugs and cups and stuff just to make sure she never risked anything! Then all of a sudden something with her spit gets in Orion’s bag once they’re told to kill each other, and she doesn’t know how it happened?
B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T!
A part of him felt bad for not going back. Lucine probably deserved to know what happened, at the very least she should know not to trust Nora. But he didn’t want to face her again. If he did, he didn’t think he could hold back. He might just fucking strangle-
No. No. No. What Nora did was awful, and she deserved punishment, but he wasn’t doing that. He wasn’t stuping to her level.
He’d killed Orion, but it was either that, or let him suffer. He did what he had to once, and he’ll never do it again.
How Joel had gotten any sleep, he didn’t know. He could only be thankful it was a dreamless sleep. He didn’t want to think about what his dreams had for him in the future.
He never left the road. He didn’t know why. Best he could guess, it felt familiar. Safer, somehow. Who knew sleeping on the side of a road could be comfort for him instead of a worst case scenario.
It was as he was rolling up the sleeping bag that the crackle sounded. Speakers sounding off as a familiar voice came through them.
“What fucking now…” Joel muttered, mainly to himself.
Say It Three Times In A Row
You won’t believe how far I’ll go (Private, Morning of Day 2)
Moderator: SOTF Supers Staff
((Kennedy Jackson continued from Swallowing Panic in the Face of Its Force))
There was a lot to cover between then and now, wasn't there?
For starters, Kennedy had essentially marched all the way back to where she started. Had, the past tense. From the middle of the desert, back into the building where she'd stolen Moose's map. She'd reached the first room she saw, a different room from her very first rest room, closed the door and sat down on the bed, because those were everywhere.
One of the things Kennedy Jackson had gotten used to in her regular life was dealing with being sad. She'd feel the sadness come on, at any time she wasn't particularly strong about it, and she'd try to redirect it in a way that made sense to her. Maybe listen to a really sad song, or watch a really sad Survivor elimination, or read a really sad book. She'd get sad over that, and then it'd meet up with that underlying sadness she'd been feeling all day, and suddenly, the sadness wasn't about ennui or her depression or her loneliness, it was because of something else. So, yeah, she'd gotten that downpat.
The same could not be said for anger, though. She'd not had much experience dealing with that, as was most likely evident when she spewed her mouth rainbows over three unsuspecting people. She'd told someone she'd never liked them, told another person they were a freak, and someone who'd never done anything to her got to experience it in first-person HD 4K surround sound. She'd also lost her hoodie. Oh, and she'd also come out, which she swore she'd never do until she went to university or left town, or both. Well, she supposed this counted as leaving town.
Because yeah, Kennedy was gay. Happy, terrorists? You outed her. Good for you. You got what you wanted, you made this girl act a fool, could she just go home now?
But Kennedy was still horrified. She still made a fool of herself, made a scene, and every time she moved slightly, on that bed arms around herself, sitting on that bed, she was transported back into her rant, with every replay adding more and more spit flying out of her mouth until those gushing rainbows weren't just a metaphor anymore. It would have been less embarrassing if she'd actually just vomited on them. chunks flying everywhere. Then there'd be the question of why they were covered in strips of paper, a question she'd never be obligated to answer. If she wanted to be logical about it, she wouldn't have to, but she wasn't that logical. She was just feeling a lot of things back then, and right now she was reliving them and cringing.
There was no time to relive them when the speakers crackled on.
The voice that came through them was the same as before, the one that started the murder, that killed Kennedy’s teachers and classmates. Repeating the same schtick about needing death for the death god. The young girl sat there, doing her best to not take any of it in. She didn’t need to listen to it, because it wasn’t relevant. The owl lady wasn’t relevant.
Nobody was going to die, even though evidence pointed to the contrary throughout. Apparently, someone had taken Moose’s finger after she left him blind. And through an extended game of the song Telephone by Lady Gaga, she was to blame. The thought of even doing such a thing was horrifying, of course, because Kennedy was not only not the type to remove someone’s fingers due to the massive fear that it would happen to her, but she was afraid of blood - a fear that hadn’t been tested yet.
Nobody was going to die, because nothing had happened.
She wished she was still living those cringey memories,
rather than sitting in a cold, dark room for hours,
with no end.
It was eventually pitch black, and every slight movement, from her or imagined, was a flare. She couldn't sleep. She wouldn't sleep. By the time she'd become aware of her senses enough to realize she could have gone into her sleeping bag, it was already too late, because every movement was the same, blaring beacon in the night.
So she held her arms, and waited. Her brain felt fried, even though she hadn't used it.
---
Eventually, light came, and she instinctually walked outside, and kept walking outside until she felt the sun on her skin. By comparison, she felt she'd been deep fried to a light crisp. Once again, just like yesterday, she began walking down the only road. Maybe this time, when she reached the end, the fence would be open.
The compound eventually became a dot on her back windscreen, and Kennedy saw another one on the horizon. A boy, one she knew and liked from class, rolling up a sleeping bag because he was smarter than she was.
Kennedy eventually reached talking distance, when the speakers blared to life again. Maybe it was time. Maybe nobody had killed, and now maybe they were going to let them all go, or do the other thing they talked about which Kennedy wasn't going to let slide through her mind because then it would be real, just like the names the woman on the other end was reading off were suddenly real, like Kincaid who she'd seen was now apparently dead, or Jenelle who she was friends with was now apparently dead, or Moose who she'd attacked was suddenly dead, killed by Mercedes who she'd seen yesterday who was apparently a killer, or Yvette who she'd always cringed at the existence of was apparently dead, or Orion was apparently dead,
killed by Joel who was standing right in front of her rolling up his sleeping bag.
Her brain hadn't quite processed the events, since they were still operating on the assumption it was yesterday. So she stood there, limbs awkward and hanging, mouth not quite in the right place, like a red-headed gumby, looking at the only person she'd met since she'd been here who could even remotely resemble a friend.
There was a lot to cover between then and now, wasn't there?
For starters, Kennedy had essentially marched all the way back to where she started. Had, the past tense. From the middle of the desert, back into the building where she'd stolen Moose's map. She'd reached the first room she saw, a different room from her very first rest room, closed the door and sat down on the bed, because those were everywhere.
One of the things Kennedy Jackson had gotten used to in her regular life was dealing with being sad. She'd feel the sadness come on, at any time she wasn't particularly strong about it, and she'd try to redirect it in a way that made sense to her. Maybe listen to a really sad song, or watch a really sad Survivor elimination, or read a really sad book. She'd get sad over that, and then it'd meet up with that underlying sadness she'd been feeling all day, and suddenly, the sadness wasn't about ennui or her depression or her loneliness, it was because of something else. So, yeah, she'd gotten that downpat.
The same could not be said for anger, though. She'd not had much experience dealing with that, as was most likely evident when she spewed her mouth rainbows over three unsuspecting people. She'd told someone she'd never liked them, told another person they were a freak, and someone who'd never done anything to her got to experience it in first-person HD 4K surround sound. She'd also lost her hoodie. Oh, and she'd also come out, which she swore she'd never do until she went to university or left town, or both. Well, she supposed this counted as leaving town.
Because yeah, Kennedy was gay. Happy, terrorists? You outed her. Good for you. You got what you wanted, you made this girl act a fool, could she just go home now?
But Kennedy was still horrified. She still made a fool of herself, made a scene, and every time she moved slightly, on that bed arms around herself, sitting on that bed, she was transported back into her rant, with every replay adding more and more spit flying out of her mouth until those gushing rainbows weren't just a metaphor anymore. It would have been less embarrassing if she'd actually just vomited on them. chunks flying everywhere. Then there'd be the question of why they were covered in strips of paper, a question she'd never be obligated to answer. If she wanted to be logical about it, she wouldn't have to, but she wasn't that logical. She was just feeling a lot of things back then, and right now she was reliving them and cringing.
There was no time to relive them when the speakers crackled on.
The voice that came through them was the same as before, the one that started the murder, that killed Kennedy’s teachers and classmates. Repeating the same schtick about needing death for the death god. The young girl sat there, doing her best to not take any of it in. She didn’t need to listen to it, because it wasn’t relevant. The owl lady wasn’t relevant.
Nobody was going to die, even though evidence pointed to the contrary throughout. Apparently, someone had taken Moose’s finger after she left him blind. And through an extended game of the song Telephone by Lady Gaga, she was to blame. The thought of even doing such a thing was horrifying, of course, because Kennedy was not only not the type to remove someone’s fingers due to the massive fear that it would happen to her, but she was afraid of blood - a fear that hadn’t been tested yet.
Nobody was going to die, because nothing had happened.
She wished she was still living those cringey memories,
rather than sitting in a cold, dark room for hours,
with no end.
It was eventually pitch black, and every slight movement, from her or imagined, was a flare. She couldn't sleep. She wouldn't sleep. By the time she'd become aware of her senses enough to realize she could have gone into her sleeping bag, it was already too late, because every movement was the same, blaring beacon in the night.
So she held her arms, and waited. Her brain felt fried, even though she hadn't used it.
---
Eventually, light came, and she instinctually walked outside, and kept walking outside until she felt the sun on her skin. By comparison, she felt she'd been deep fried to a light crisp. Once again, just like yesterday, she began walking down the only road. Maybe this time, when she reached the end, the fence would be open.
The compound eventually became a dot on her back windscreen, and Kennedy saw another one on the horizon. A boy, one she knew and liked from class, rolling up a sleeping bag because he was smarter than she was.
Kennedy eventually reached talking distance, when the speakers blared to life again. Maybe it was time. Maybe nobody had killed, and now maybe they were going to let them all go, or do the other thing they talked about which Kennedy wasn't going to let slide through her mind because then it would be real, just like the names the woman on the other end was reading off were suddenly real, like Kincaid who she'd seen was now apparently dead, or Jenelle who she was friends with was now apparently dead, or Moose who she'd attacked was suddenly dead, killed by Mercedes who she'd seen yesterday who was apparently a killer, or Yvette who she'd always cringed at the existence of was apparently dead, or Orion was apparently dead,
killed by Joel who was standing right in front of her rolling up his sleeping bag.
Her brain hadn't quite processed the events, since they were still operating on the assumption it was yesterday. So she stood there, limbs awkward and hanging, mouth not quite in the right place, like a red-headed gumby, looking at the only person she'd met since she'd been here who could even remotely resemble a friend.
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So, The Fiendish Furry Friends were going to announce who died and what happened to them. Awesome-fucking beautiful! Now everyone gets to know what happened! Now everyone gets to know Joel's a fucking murderer! Truly a fucking godsend of a thing to learn.
It's not all bad, he supposes. At least now people will know to steer clear of Nora too. If she can't trick anyone else into trusting her, then she can't pull off any more poisonings. Fucked up to think about, but hey, the entire situation is fucked up. Not exactly changing the status quo here.
Other people apparently died, and as much as he wished he could shrug off deaths, it was not something easily done especially with people he knew. Joel and Kincaid never really talked much, but knowing that the guy he used to jokingly call Garfield when he streamed was dead with a shredded neck wasn't really helping cheer him up.
It was the same for Jenelle. He never liked her, and she never liked him. Simple as that. But...fuck. She was an asshole, but she didn't deserve to die. Joel didn't even want to think about how Austin was taking it-he didn't like either Greene sibling, but if he was around to hear that...he doesn't want to think about it.
He didn't know Sidney, not very well anyway, but she had some of his respect. Collar explosion was still an awful way to go, but pissing off the psychos behind this by smashing their shit before going out? If Joel had half the balls she did, he might go for it, but as it stood he was not touching any of the cameras that continued to stare at him.
Either Mercy had fucking lost it, or Moose was killed in self-defense. Easy enough to think about. Joel didn't want to think about any of Crispin's cronies being capable of murder, but it was easier to process than Mercedes purposely frying someone. And if she did, well...his chances of getting people out of here felt severely more fucking screwed.
And then it was Orion then-
Then...
"That...that fucking bitch."
Joel wanted to scream. Seriously?! Fucking seriously, that's it?!?! No mention of Nora? No mention of him trying to help Orion? Not even a mention that it was a mercy kill!? Are you shitting him!?! Just Hey Orion got killed with a rock by Joel, ain't that fucked, anyway. No, what's fucked is that you have to be a fucking bitch and make him sound like the bad guy when he was just trying to fucking fix the shitty situation they were in! FUCK!
He only heard every other thing that was said as he sat, stewing in his anger. Cyrus was dead, the one person where can't muster sympathy for. He might've even deserved it, but hey, that's not for Joel to say. Apparently Astrid had killed too, so that's a fun thing to think about. Thank God there was no chance Martin could be here, otherwise he'd be worried it was something in the family. And Isabella had taken her first victim already, fan-fucking-tastic. More bullshit that he would definitely have to deal with eventually.
His body was back on auto-pilot. The sleeping bag was getting stuffed back into the 3 bag-he still had Orion's bag, he needed to do something about it so he didn't have to carry about two bags all the time-and he thought about what he'd do to that owl fuck if he could get his hands on her. He wasn't normally a violent person, but he would definitely make an exception for her. Bitch shoots two people he knows, one of which he genuinely likes, tells them to kill each other or she's gonna make all of their necks explode, and when she gets her way she makes him sound like the bad guy. If anyone deserved to die, it would definitely be that cu-
Someone was watching him.
If he was back home, he probably wouldn't have noticed, but in the desert where there's literally no one else around for maybe miles? She stuck out like a sore thumb.
Kennedy, who was usually the victim of bullies because she didn't talk with a lot of people. The only person Joel knew was friends with her was Jenelle, and she was...you know. He didn't really talk with her, but he tried to help her out whenever people picked on her. Not like anyone could really be sure if it was him making people trip over their own feet or it was their own clumsiness.
And now there she stood, staring at him. Right after hearing that he had killed one of their classmates.
Joel knew it was pointless, but he held up his hands anyway, the universal signal of trying to show he meant no harm.
"I...I can explian."
It's not all bad, he supposes. At least now people will know to steer clear of Nora too. If she can't trick anyone else into trusting her, then she can't pull off any more poisonings. Fucked up to think about, but hey, the entire situation is fucked up. Not exactly changing the status quo here.
Other people apparently died, and as much as he wished he could shrug off deaths, it was not something easily done especially with people he knew. Joel and Kincaid never really talked much, but knowing that the guy he used to jokingly call Garfield when he streamed was dead with a shredded neck wasn't really helping cheer him up.
It was the same for Jenelle. He never liked her, and she never liked him. Simple as that. But...fuck. She was an asshole, but she didn't deserve to die. Joel didn't even want to think about how Austin was taking it-he didn't like either Greene sibling, but if he was around to hear that...he doesn't want to think about it.
He didn't know Sidney, not very well anyway, but she had some of his respect. Collar explosion was still an awful way to go, but pissing off the psychos behind this by smashing their shit before going out? If Joel had half the balls she did, he might go for it, but as it stood he was not touching any of the cameras that continued to stare at him.
Either Mercy had fucking lost it, or Moose was killed in self-defense. Easy enough to think about. Joel didn't want to think about any of Crispin's cronies being capable of murder, but it was easier to process than Mercedes purposely frying someone. And if she did, well...his chances of getting people out of here felt severely more fucking screwed.
And then it was Orion then-
Then...
"That...that fucking bitch."
Joel wanted to scream. Seriously?! Fucking seriously, that's it?!?! No mention of Nora? No mention of him trying to help Orion? Not even a mention that it was a mercy kill!? Are you shitting him!?! Just Hey Orion got killed with a rock by Joel, ain't that fucked, anyway. No, what's fucked is that you have to be a fucking bitch and make him sound like the bad guy when he was just trying to fucking fix the shitty situation they were in! FUCK!
He only heard every other thing that was said as he sat, stewing in his anger. Cyrus was dead, the one person where can't muster sympathy for. He might've even deserved it, but hey, that's not for Joel to say. Apparently Astrid had killed too, so that's a fun thing to think about. Thank God there was no chance Martin could be here, otherwise he'd be worried it was something in the family. And Isabella had taken her first victim already, fan-fucking-tastic. More bullshit that he would definitely have to deal with eventually.
His body was back on auto-pilot. The sleeping bag was getting stuffed back into the 3 bag-he still had Orion's bag, he needed to do something about it so he didn't have to carry about two bags all the time-and he thought about what he'd do to that owl fuck if he could get his hands on her. He wasn't normally a violent person, but he would definitely make an exception for her. Bitch shoots two people he knows, one of which he genuinely likes, tells them to kill each other or she's gonna make all of their necks explode, and when she gets her way she makes him sound like the bad guy. If anyone deserved to die, it would definitely be that cu-
Someone was watching him.
If he was back home, he probably wouldn't have noticed, but in the desert where there's literally no one else around for maybe miles? She stuck out like a sore thumb.
Kennedy, who was usually the victim of bullies because she didn't talk with a lot of people. The only person Joel knew was friends with her was Jenelle, and she was...you know. He didn't really talk with her, but he tried to help her out whenever people picked on her. Not like anyone could really be sure if it was him making people trip over their own feet or it was their own clumsiness.
And now there she stood, staring at him. Right after hearing that he had killed one of their classmates.
Joel knew it was pointless, but he held up his hands anyway, the universal signal of trying to show he meant no harm.
"I...I can explian."
Joel Foster stood in front of Kennedy, hands up, having murdered someone the previous day. She didn't move. She didn't know what had happened beyond what the woman said, but apparently she beat his head in with a rock. At some point, as she sat around crying in front of god knew who, people were actually murdering each other, and one of them was standing in front of her. Joel. She liked Joel, she always had, and she was the only person she'd known from school who she liked who was alive and also hadn't accused her of attacking her classmate. She knew how overly narrow that superlative was, but bear with it. She didn't even have time to process Kincaid and Jenelle being dead, because the real danger was right in front of her, apparently.
That was funny, wasn't it? All those people were dead, people she'd just seen yesterday. Funny, not in the ha-ha sense, but in some sort of cosmic sense. Irony? Was that it? The term was used too much for her to know what it really meant, but it was something along those trails. She wasn't laughing. In fact, she wanted to let out some form of emotion that equated to "strong", but she didn't have the time or the energy. She wasn't used to dealing with those emotions, but she knew when other people dragged them out. It wasn't the time now.
Maybe if something happened, it could distract her from having to deal with that. Something, anything, please? Just a wee crumb of attention to scratch away, please?
Actually, there was something - Joel said he could explain.
Well, that was perfect! She could deal with that, in the here and now, as Joel explained why he killed Orion.
"You can?"
Did that come out the right way? It came out a way. In her head, she was still thinking about what "post-irony" meant.
That was funny, wasn't it? All those people were dead, people she'd just seen yesterday. Funny, not in the ha-ha sense, but in some sort of cosmic sense. Irony? Was that it? The term was used too much for her to know what it really meant, but it was something along those trails. She wasn't laughing. In fact, she wanted to let out some form of emotion that equated to "strong", but she didn't have the time or the energy. She wasn't used to dealing with those emotions, but she knew when other people dragged them out. It wasn't the time now.
Maybe if something happened, it could distract her from having to deal with that. Something, anything, please? Just a wee crumb of attention to scratch away, please?
Actually, there was something - Joel said he could explain.
Well, that was perfect! She could deal with that, in the here and now, as Joel explained why he killed Orion.
"You can?"
Did that come out the right way? It came out a way. In her head, she was still thinking about what "post-irony" meant.
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She didn't run away screaming. She didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't try to attack him or call him a murderer. Low bar, but at this point Joel took his victories where he could get them.
Joel nodded, maybe a bit too fast but he didn't really think it mattered.
"Yes. Do you know Nora? The girl who usually has a face mask on and was homeschooled until like, eighth grade? She's here too. We were in a group together. We were going to set up camp, started a fire even, but she-she did something."
Joel could feel the tears trying to leave his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try and make it stop.
"I don't know if she just switched a bottle or what, but-but she poisoned him. Orion. He couldn't move and he was in pain and he could even talk normally and I know it had to be her, because that's her gift, she's got poison spit, and she poisoned him, and he was scared and I tried to help him but I could barely get him to the fucking road before tripping and he just wanted me to make it stop and I didn't know what to fucking do and I-"
He was rambling. The tears were flowing now, and he had to take a shakey breath just to try calming his nerves. It didn't work completely, but it did help a tiny bit.
"So...I killed him. It was...it was either that, or let him suffer, and I...I didn't want him to suffer, so..." he shrugged.
Joel kept his open palm facing Kennedy, but brought the right hand back towards his face, doing his best to try wiping the tears away.
Joel nodded, maybe a bit too fast but he didn't really think it mattered.
"Yes. Do you know Nora? The girl who usually has a face mask on and was homeschooled until like, eighth grade? She's here too. We were in a group together. We were going to set up camp, started a fire even, but she-she did something."
Joel could feel the tears trying to leave his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try and make it stop.
"I don't know if she just switched a bottle or what, but-but she poisoned him. Orion. He couldn't move and he was in pain and he could even talk normally and I know it had to be her, because that's her gift, she's got poison spit, and she poisoned him, and he was scared and I tried to help him but I could barely get him to the fucking road before tripping and he just wanted me to make it stop and I didn't know what to fucking do and I-"
He was rambling. The tears were flowing now, and he had to take a shakey breath just to try calming his nerves. It didn't work completely, but it did help a tiny bit.
"So...I killed him. It was...it was either that, or let him suffer, and I...I didn't want him to suffer, so..." he shrugged.
Joel kept his open palm facing Kennedy, but brought the right hand back towards his face, doing his best to try wiping the tears away.
Kennedy had always mentally filled in Nora as "Mileena", for the obvious Mortal Kombat-related reasons. Even without it, she was weird, but apparently those lines ran deeper than Kennedy thought. Worst case scenario of everything, Nora intentionally tried to murder her classmate and Joel finished the job; best case scenario of everything still, Nora had an honest accident and it cascaded to Joel having to mercy-kill a classmate. Kennedy was never particularly fond of Orion in the same way that she was never particularly fond of Nora, but that didn't mean she wanted him dead.
But even in these scenarios, swirling through the metaverse, all she could think about was how she liked Joel better than she liked Orion.
The factory that was her brain was still trying to process the rest of the announcement by hand, but the conveyor belt had to take the brunt of the boy in front of her. She really didn't know what to say, or how to say it, so there was no point in thinking it over. There wasn't a way to workshop every draft in her head if she didn't know what her response was.
"We, uh. We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. I mean, if it makes you feel bad. I won't...I don't have to, like judge you or anything."
Better wisdom told her to see what he said to that. She could have charged ahead, but she wasn't going to. Sometimes, things just needed to sit out in the sun, melanoma be damned.
But even in these scenarios, swirling through the metaverse, all she could think about was how she liked Joel better than she liked Orion.
The factory that was her brain was still trying to process the rest of the announcement by hand, but the conveyor belt had to take the brunt of the boy in front of her. She really didn't know what to say, or how to say it, so there was no point in thinking it over. There wasn't a way to workshop every draft in her head if she didn't know what her response was.
"We, uh. We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. I mean, if it makes you feel bad. I won't...I don't have to, like judge you or anything."
Better wisdom told her to see what he said to that. She could have charged ahead, but she wasn't going to. Sometimes, things just needed to sit out in the sun, melanoma be damned.
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They...what?
They didn't...have to talk about it?
She wouldn't...judge him?
Was she just trying to be nice? Or did she really mean it? Fuck, he wished he could tell.
Joel took a couple deep breaths. He needed to steady himself. Being unstable wasn't going to help anything, so calm down.
"Thank you, but...I needed to say it. Get it out so I don't just...look like some psycho that killed someone the first chance they got. Because I'm not. I just...I just wanted to help."
He just wanted to make it better.
"I think I would like to talk about something else, though. If you'd be willing to talk with me."
He didn't expect much to come of it, but at least it would mean talking with someone for a little bit. Not have to worry about someone trying to poison or kill him for a moment. And hey, Joel and Kennedy weren't exactly good friends or anything, but he was pretty sure they were on good terms.
And if Nora taught him anything, maybe some friends weren't to be trusted here. Maybe it was better to trust acquaintances or strangers.
They didn't...have to talk about it?
She wouldn't...judge him?
Was she just trying to be nice? Or did she really mean it? Fuck, he wished he could tell.
Joel took a couple deep breaths. He needed to steady himself. Being unstable wasn't going to help anything, so calm down.
"Thank you, but...I needed to say it. Get it out so I don't just...look like some psycho that killed someone the first chance they got. Because I'm not. I just...I just wanted to help."
He just wanted to make it better.
"I think I would like to talk about something else, though. If you'd be willing to talk with me."
He didn't expect much to come of it, but at least it would mean talking with someone for a little bit. Not have to worry about someone trying to poison or kill him for a moment. And hey, Joel and Kennedy weren't exactly good friends or anything, but he was pretty sure they were on good terms.
And if Nora taught him anything, maybe some friends weren't to be trusted here. Maybe it was better to trust acquaintances or strangers.
Kennedy let the silence hang for a moment. She followed this up with a smile.
"Sure, we can talk about anything. What were you thinking?"
"Sure, we can talk about anything. What were you thinking?"
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She agreed. She actually agreed.
If this was a dream, Joel wasn't sure if he wanted to wake up.
He gave Kennedy a smile of his own. It was small and fragile, but existent, and maybe that was enough.
"Thank you."
He let his arms finally drop as he thought. Anything to talk about, literally anything, would be better, and something did come to mind. Maybe it was inappropriate, considering their situation, but it wasn't as bad, so...
"Have you ever watched Survivor?"
If this was a dream, Joel wasn't sure if he wanted to wake up.
He gave Kennedy a smile of his own. It was small and fragile, but existent, and maybe that was enough.
"Thank you."
He let his arms finally drop as he thought. Anything to talk about, literally anything, would be better, and something did come to mind. Maybe it was inappropriate, considering their situation, but it wasn't as bad, so...
"Have you ever watched Survivor?"
Kennedy's eyes lit up.
"I, uh, may have watched a bit of Survivor, yeah."
"I, uh, may have watched a bit of Survivor, yeah."
((Kennedy Jackson and Joel Foster continued elsewhere))