It's best to read this before going to sleep. it is very tiring.
Even though their swim had been cut off short, they decided to hang out at the reserve for a little while longer. Jeremy just laughed and waved away his friends' concern, saying nonchalantly that he was fine, and that absolutely nothing was wrong at all. Although most of the security guards knew he was lying, but also knew that he just… wanted some time and space. Mike duly noted that they all had different coping methods,each one reflecting something of their personalities. It was a quiet observation, but the more he thought about it, the odder and more reasonable it seemed. Fritz noticed his introspection and playfully togged his cap, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Hey, what was that for?" Mike asked, readjusting his hat, but he was smiling as he rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone like messing with my hat?"
"Cause it's, like…" Dementia made a hand motion, attempting to signify what she meant. "Fun? It's like, right there, and kinda very tempting, ya get me?"
"Agreed," Scott hummed, chuckling slightly internally, Vincent staring at him openly with a dumb smile. Scott subtly put his hand on his, unnoticed by all but Jeremy. "It's just something that comes rather as a reflex than a choice."
Whether he noticed it or not, his hand tightened on Vin's, and the purple man blushed as he thought about it. He decided to ask Scott out, but before he could even get his mouth open, Fritz's cell phone rang.
"It's William," he said, without much thought. He was handing it over to Vincent when Scott snatched it. Fritz looked dumbfounded. "Phone, what, why?"
"No," Scott snarled into the phone as soon as he answered the call. "That's final. Do you understand, Mr. Afton? Good, I'm glad we're at a credible median here. I refuse to let you near them. This whole affair is between you and I, and if you dare, all bets are off."
He hung up, positively fuming. His companions looked at him, concerned and wondering. They rarely saw Scott angry, and even less often seen him act upon his anger. He was more systematic, more calculative, and by far more patient than most of the world. So if he was mad at William, he either had a good reason or long fuse (probably both). He exhaled slowly, tilting his head back.
"I probably shouldn't take the shift tonight," he thought aloud, yet there was a hint of laughter in the tone, as though he knew he shouldn't ever take the shift, yet inexplicably did so nearly every night, thrusting care to the wind, and hoping God will do him no injustice. "Mike, Dementia, and 5.0.5., you three are on the shift, Fritz, you will go with Blake as a bit of a collateral. I have business to attend to tonight. Vincent, make sure you are with Jeremy and Eggs at all times. Blake, Flug and Fritz, same goes for you. Understand?"
A chorus of "yep"s and "sure"s followed suit, only afterwards realizing. Scott critically scanned each of them, and nodded.
"Quick question," Flug butted into the silence. "What's going on, and since when are you in charge of this?"
"Since Mike's frontal lobe was torn," he replied, a tight and cautious smile flashing briefly. "As for 'what's going on', bad things. I hope that I'll be able to say the rest, but for now, it's best if the five of us don't go missing. Then people wouldn't be framed."
"Hey, hey, are you accusing my dad of the murder of the five kids?" Vincent asked incredulously, eyes wide. "I know I didn't do it, but…."
