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It's your boy.
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Corin eyed Bunny as she spoke, the more he listened to Bunny, the more he began to fidget. His hand shifted behind his neck to rub it, and his mouth opened repeatedly though no words would come out. It was as though he had a lot of commentary but could not force the words out of his mouth. However, when it came to the matter of the rifle his response was quick.

“N-no, I said before that I won’t be shooting him, I was just- I feel better holding it, to be honest, it makes me feel… less helpless.” He paused for a brief moment, as a chilled zephyr passed. It brought only further discomfort and stopped him mid-sentence as a discomforted gasp escaped his lips. His stance shifted into one that looked less aggressive, though not quite relaxed. He was still tense; for he could not help if his hair was standing on end for the cold and feeling of impending doom were still very much present in the air.

He wasn’t sure how to articulate his words, as he had never made use of his aural communication skills in the past. But he was going to try and force it, for his own good he figured.

“Bunny, if you take it away right now I’ll become a burden, I’ll die. I’m pretty sure.” His voice carried a tone of fearful certainty to it, blatant as he had ever been in regards to the fear that laced every bit of speech and action of his so far. He stopped hoisting the rifle against his shoulder, no longer holding it as though ready to shoot and kill. He hoped that this diffused the situation enough that Bunny would not ask again for the rifle. He may explain about the empty breech later, if time were given, though at the moment it seemed a lesser concern.

When it came to Forrest’s turn for Corin’s attention, he appeared still to be apprehensive, but improving visibly from before. If only enough that he did not seem to be spitting at he spoke nor positioning himself as though he were about to assault. He spoke quite quickly, shifting from one conversation to the other, then to his own thoughts.

“You can thank me for not shooting you by not scaring me ever again.” He spoke delicately.

Corin was slow to give him an answer to his question, though ultimately he nodded.

“For a while it should be okay, if Bunny agrees.” He spoke with a soft tone that Forrest might find a little more familiar, as Corin seemed to recall their relationship in the past and calmed so slightly.

“I think right now, we need to find an indoor area. The ground will kill us with cold if we try and sleep outside. But there’ll be more people going for similar places. If we have more people… we’ll be a scarier looking group, right? I’m not sure if that makes any sense. Since we’re not on the same team Forrest can walk up the front or middle of our group?”

He looked as though he was trying to gauge their expressions, though his countenance wasn’t that of a stern leader and lacked the eye contact necessary to appear compelling. He held the one palm that was free of the rifle upward as he spoke, at the very least open but still unsteady. He repeatedly looked up and down at the ground and the others as he spoke.

“And Bunny, if you’re cold I can lend you my sweater for a little.” He half mumbled, as though uncertain about the suggestion.
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Ones Who Fly Twos Who Die · The Orchard
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