week 5; murder night

[selfimmolates]

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[selfimmolates]

[i think that if you love something enough, you could easily become a terrible person, he'd said. and do you think those people still deserve to be happy? she'd asked. (people like you, they'd both known was meant.)

he hadn't been able to give a proper answer then. which was it that he was afraid of: that the answer would be no, or that the answer would be yes?

on this night, ray is perched near the railing of the fourth floor, gun prepared as he keeps an eye on the lower floors and courtyard. beside him lies his scroll and pen, similarly at the ready. if anyone's going to be targeted this week, it'll likely be him. he's always known this, as have so many people who worried for him.

(... it's still so weird. he isn't too sure if they're the strange ones for caring, though, or if he is for thinking that they shouldn't.)

—ah. in some ways, ray hates being right.

which is to say that as soon as catra emerges from the staircase, sure hope she enjoys the barrage of bullets she's getting!]