"Uh...Sapphire? I...I think I might have seen her today. It was just before I headed off to find some stuff on my own, when she showed up. I think these two girls I was travelling with were her friends, cause they knew her, and..."
Brendan's voice trailed off slightly there, and he averted his gaze to his knees. Everything he just said was opening up a whole shebang of questions, and it was best to cut off the possible damage when he could. Reduce the risk of reliance, they shouldn't have to count on you, too many people are doing that already, just for your safety.
Saul decided to stay around, and the three of them decided to hand around for safety. The numbers decreased their chances of getting caught unawares. However, it just turned into the same thing as before. Brendan sat alone, all by himself, while someone else did the dirty work. When Jojo asked, he mumbled something, he wasn't quite sure what, about his leg and wellbeing.
What really should have set the two of them off right there was his unwillingness to help. For starters, both of them, and everyone in a mile radius, knew they had a gun, knew HE had a gun. What the three of them had between them accumulated into a hierarchy of pathetic. Gun, then a sledgehammer
, then an 8-ball. A sledgehammer was a crap weapon, and as Brendan sat huddled into himself against the bunker wall, he knew he should have just at least offered to help, even if he wasn't going to be of any use.
Did he even really care about these guys? Or at least, did it look like he cared? Cause he wanted to. He wanted to be worried about their troubles, their concerns, their well-being, but...he didn't know. Brendan knew even thinking something like that was bound to get you heaps of dirty looks, and now here he was just wishing that he would come to care about them overnight. He needed it. It reminded him of the most important thing in the world.
Come morning, he wasn't feeling any better. Through a guise of sleeping, resting, and "not feeling well", he'd stayed to the lonesome all night and just tried to think about how he was going to make it back to his group. It was the morning, and the announcements would be on any minute. By the time Danya's voice reached across the island, they'd know it would be time to leave. Go over to the town, that's what he suggested and said they should do.
Oh, and to make the whole thing better? Nik had kicked it. The same Nik who he'd been helping out in the band for the last few months, the same one who could play guitar like nobody's business, and the same Nik who he'd only just feared for his state of mind only, what, 2 days ago now? Dead. His brother killed him, apparently.
So that meant...Jamie was left. He knew Laverne and Joe weren't on the trip. Wasn't sure why, but they weren't on the buses. As harsh as it sounded, Laverne was a figure that really stood out in a crowd. Joseph he knew from a distance now, so...he just had to find Jamie.
He doubted whether she'd even remember him. They weren't even that close. He only adjusted the sound and lighting for them numerous times, and their friendly exchanges and such were the extent of their brief conversations.
But it's not like he could actually catch a break with that, huh?
Oh, and to top it all off, guess what was declared a danger zone, a no-go? The town.
Once Danya drawled off the area, Brendan instinctively gulped. This was what happened when you had no back-up plan.
"Great..." Brendan mumbled, speaking for the first time in hours. He hadn't said a word, even while Saul and Jojo shared their stories. But now, he needed to get that incy wincy little bit of frustration off his chest.
He lifted his head from the confines of his legs, and looked to his companions for guidance.
"So...I suppose, uh, we should go. Staying around the same area for too long is kinda...iffy. So, um...I'm heading back up north, and if either of you wanna come...we stick together, I suppose.
The bag was drawn out from under the vice and loaded onto his shoulder. Brendan's legs felt the brief rush of air, of cold, and pins and needles, that came with a slight change in muscle condition over a night spent contorted entirely too wrong. HIs hands reached up to the edge of the bank on the green, and pulled the tall boy up. As if the feeling of needled legs couldn't get any worse, it reached the stitchings in his leg and then burnt for a few fleeting seconds like flint-wood held to a furnace. He bit his lip. The pain subsided, still rattling. At least Brendan could walk again.
"I'm, um...ready, yeah, I guess. Let's go then."
((Brendan Wallace continues in The Beggar King