• It was awkward. The atmosphere on the ship.

The hunters were split into thirds across the ship, as to keep everyone separated. Ralph still talking to the navy official from behind the door of the control panel. Anyone could hear the obvious phone call between Ralph and his father.

You were sat alone with Jack Merridew, what was once your brave, insane chief an anxiety filled mess. His right leg bouncing and hitting the metal floor beneath him as his choir cloak wrapped around him like a blanket, his blonde hair not yet combed yet despite reviving a hair brush, the mess of blonde curls a disheveled nightmare.

Jack bit his lip, his hands grabbing his thighs since he no longer had a spear to hold onto. He was clearly worried, his blue eyes glancing over at you. He couldn’t even tell who you were, since you had tidied up with the others. His freckles face full of blank concern and self consciousness.

No. He was still chief. He wasn’t allowed to play concerned. But now he was growing desperate for some ounce of sanity.

Hey..Guest…I’m..sorry. For what happened back in the island.

Merridew spoke as of an apology would fix everything. The pain, the horror, the death. His measly apology would never amount for the hospitalization and pain - the sudden realization enough to stop him dead in his tracks. Why does it matter if he apologies or not? He can simply guilt trip and gaslight back to the top.

If anyone asks, I was a good chief and everything that happened was an accident and was entirely Ralph’s fault.

Jack frowned, biting his lip. He was innocent. He was innocent…right? Right? *Right. Yes. He was just doing what any good chief would do.