Re: Quicklog, Silent Hill: Neil D, Lou D, Cris M
Cris felt too strong and too deep, was too panicked and too angry to leave anything anywhere. He couldn't divorce his feelings and leave them behind, superior or not. He wasn't that kinda guy. Maybe it'd be better if he was, huh? Then he could turn off the switch like Neil. Move on to whatever it was the guy thought they should be doing here, so they could, what? Cooperate in harmony? Like this wasn't Neil's fault. But, he couldn't. He couldn't even try. He was glowering at Neil, all the more enraged that the guy couldn't even give him the satisfaction of pretending to feel kinda bad about shit—or, even if not bad, he didn't react at all, and, Dios, did Cris feel powerless just then. Like he was fighting somebody with a semiautomatic while he had nothing more than a butterknife.—It wasn't a good feeling.
He wanted to curl up somewhere, but he couldn't.
But Sam was panicking over the journals, and as much as he wanted to break Neil's nose open his face, like the cruncha aristocratic bone would make him feel better, he didn't. For once, he didn't. He returned the squeeze, huh? Pressure in palm around the backa Lou's neck, fraternal, and a nod. "We're gonna be fine. See you at the school."
Maybe they were s'posed to band together, forget their differences, but Cris wasn't that guy. He was hurt, and his hurt was not subsumed by the fog. He felt small and he felt worthless next to Neil, and as such, he didn't acknowledge him beyond that initial bitta eye contact. A better guy mighta told him to be safe too, but he couldn't without bile bubbling up the backa his tongue, so he just pried loose a piecea that time-eaten guardrail and banked down the road that disappeared before them, swallowed by the fog without so much as a backwards glance.