18:00

41 : Forest

May 13th

It had been, what, six days since Knife got sick now? However long it had been, it was a reasonable amount of time to heal over. But still, it felt like too much time to him. Maybe it was just his urge to find the lab, but he felt like time passed much too sluggishly.

He cracked his back on the back of the couch, listening as his joints popped. It had been a while since he had been able to do that comfortably, so it was awfully relieving.

"Well, good games guys." Pickle laughed, sitting right next to Knife.

"Yeah, good game." Knife agreed. Despite everything that happened a few nights ago, the day had gone as normal. Maybe everybody just needed a distraction, or they were adjusting to the situation.

"You sure you're okay Knife?" Pickle said. He caught onto Knife's oddly somber tone for what had to be the umpteenth time.

"I already said I'm fine, Pickle." Knife grunted.

"Right, right. Sorry." Pickle said. Knife couldn't blame him, he was just catching on to the tone of the situation. The constant 'are you okay's got annoying after a while though. "...Well, are you up for another round?"

"I think I'm good for today." Knife said. "Bomb, do you wanna try?"

"S-sure!" Bomb said. Knife handed him the controller, promptly getting off the couch to give Bomb space. He stood by and watched as Bomb and Pickle selected their characters, entering the next round.

But even if his eyes were on the screen, his mind was elsewhere. He still hadn't been able to grasp the fact Mic was gone. It made sense, it had only been a couple of days. But he had never really realized how fast the hotel tended to move past things until it moved on without him. It wasn't like it wasn't a taboo subject, but it still felt like the atmosphere jumped back too quickly.

Or perhaps he had just moved on too quickly the last few times. Did it really take his roommate being killed and presumably kidnapped right in front of his eyes for him to feel genuinely bad? He knew he was a jerk, but he never thought that label would feel this deserved.

His elbows sunk into the couch as he leaned on it. From an outsider's perspective, he bet it'd look like he was just immersed in the game. He wasn't the type to get sucked into his head, after all. It wasn't his fault he couldn't stop thinking about Mic though, even if it felt like it was.

He snapped back into reality at the sound of victory. Bomb shouted something, excitement visibly coursing through his bones. Pickle seemed upset, but in a joking way. Yet despite everything, Knife couldn't help but feel like their excitement was wrong.

"Damn it! I had a streak going..." Pickle groaned, setting his controller aside.

"Sh-sh-shouldn't have p-played th-that ov-ov-overconfidently then." Bomb shrugged, a grin on his face.

Knife stifled a remark in his throat. They had a right to be happy, he didn't need to get upset at them for that. He only observed, with nothing else to say.

As Pickle and Bomb started another round of the game, Knife felt his eyes drift away from the screen. He looked towards the front doors, or more specifically, the windows on them. He could see the gray, cloudy sky through them. And suddenly, the fact he was feeling well again became painfully obvious.

Hadn't he planned something to do with that?

"...Knife?" Pickle asked. Knife looked towards him, having hardly noticed the round had been paused.

"What?" He responded, shifting his weight off of the couch.

"Are you sure you're doing alright?" Pickle checked again. God, that question.