((Chase Rodriguez and Lydia Robbins continued from: "Man, what are you talking about? I sent you a helicopter and a boat."))
((All GMing of Lydia has been approved by MurderWeasel.))
((All GMing of Lydia has been approved by MurderWeasel.))
By the time they reached what appeared to be a decent shelter, if only in a rather loose sense of the word, Chase was drained, physically and emotionally. For all his worries, the trip had been incredibly uneventful. It was kind of funny in a way. When one thought of SotF, one was likely to think of murder and the horrors they likely to face. Instead, they'd had no more encounters with their fellow students since leaving the store, and most of their time had been spent wandering through rather pleasant scenery. Normally, he'd have appreciated the neat landscapes around him, but he was feeling a little numb to it now, after the adrenaline crash he'd experienced when they left the mall. A small corner of his mind regretted it; in any other circumstances, he would have loved to sketch some of the neater views.
They'd wandered around this way without any clear direction after leaving the mall, and it wasn't until it had started getting late that they started looking into finding a place to rest. The docks had been the closest place that seemed likely to offer refuge for the night, so off they'd gone. Unfortunately, as it turned out, the buildings were almost all in various states of decay, and the docks themselves had faired no better.
Of course, beggars could hardly be choosers. It was far too late to turn back towards the town, so they had to settle for carefully making their way across the boardwalk, even as the fading light served to make things quite hazardous. Even now, Chase was a little surprised he hadn't managed to trip off into the water, what with all the opportunities offered by the ever present debris, not to mention the occasional handy pitfall. Thankfully, they'd managed to find a store that was at least mostly intact, without any serious mishaps along the way. It was a small and dark little place, but by then, it was practically a palace as far as he was concerned. Just the luxury of letting his bag slide off against the wall and stretching was nice.
Occasionally, one or the other would make an attempt at chatting, but for the most part, Chase was content to stay quiet. He didn't want to be rude, but there was too much on his mind to make good conversation anyway. So, instead, he'd eventually started clearing out a little space for himself in a corner, and used the duffel bag to make a rather poor substitute for a pillow. Surprisingly, sleep came almost immediately, exhaustion triumphing over discomfort and worries, and for the next few hours, he was given a reprieve from it all.
That is, until a loud voice burst throughout the entire nearby area, gleefully announcing eight deaths that had taken place over the last day.
By the time it was over, he was sitting up stiffly, at a loss for words. What could he say? That he was sorry for the people who died? That didn't begin to cover what he felt, after listening to Danya's mocking voice list off the names. That he was glad Yukiko wasn't on that list? Of course, but that didn't make the rest okay.
He tried taking a slow, deep breath, and that helped a little, but he still wasn't ready to speak.
Instead, he turned to look at Lydia, to see how she was coping, or if she'd somehow been lucky enough to sleep through it all. Despite his best efforts to stay calm, to tell himself everything was alright when it so clearly wasn't, the faint tear from the corner of his eye spoke volumes for him, even as he hastily rubbed it away.
