After being abandoned by his mother at a young age, left to deal with his abusive father, JJ Maybank feels like he was stranded out at sea during a terrible storm, fighting to make it through each day. Even though he meets the Pogues at a young age...
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"I know you're full of shit, so you can stop pretending like you're fine."
- JJ Maybank
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[present day]
"I mean, it's obvious, right? A family heirloom...I mean, what better place to hide a message? He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?" John B continues to rant.
"Yeah, it's possible." Kiara shrugs, still unconvinced by her friends wild theory.
The Pogues have been driving for a few minutes, explaining to Abigail the events that led to her getting attacked at the Chateau. The girl remained silent, her throat was hurting really bad, but she didn't want to worry her friends anymore than she already had. So she drank her water and listened to the other Pogues in the van, trying to process the incoming information.
"It could also be possible that you're concocting wild theories to help, you know..." Pope begins, playing with the compass in his hands.
"Pope—"
"deal with your sad feels." He continues. Kiara shoots the boy on the back bench a look.
"Bro, you know how I process my sad feels...dank nugs and the stickies of ickies, that's how I do it." JJ jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Abigail shakes her head.
"Look, I'm not concocting, okay? My dad's trying to give me a message." John B tells his friends, silencing the blonde.
"If it helps you believe, John B—" Kiara begins, speaking softly.
"Look — I don't need a therapy session, okay?" John B defends, glancing between Kiara and the road. "I'm not tripping out."
"It's okay to trip, bro—"
"Look, my — my dad is missing! Okay...missing." John B exclaims, turning his head to look at his friends in the backseat, before turning back to the road. "You don't know what it's like to have the person closest to you vanish...and then have no idea what happened. You just wake up every morning wondering..." John B trails off, his voice cracking, as if he was going to cry.
