Crowned

Arc 3, Chapter 74: Lost and Found.

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Pickle stepped into the destroyed Cabin silently. His eyes traced the charred wood and his nose studied the scent of smoke. The smell of fire... Cooked pork...? Flesh... He didn't want to think about it too much. Trophy, who stepped beside him, didn't either. Trophy glared at Pickle. He seemed silent and distant. He had a good idea as to why, yet also knew so very little. Floor boards which creaked and scraped filled the silence briefly, though, it didn't make it any less uncomfortable. Cold would've made things even less tolerable... But the heat from freshly burnt wood remained.

Trophy decided to speak, there was nothing better that could've been done anyway. "You knew her... Before all this... Didn't you?" He asked, narrow eyes... Filled with curiosity.

Pickle shut his eyes in contrast instantly, he tried his best not to be dragged back down by that memory... Combined with his outlook on recent events. As much as he didn't want to answer, he proceeded to anyway. "Yes..." He said briefly.

"Uh...Was she always this way? Uhm... murderous?" He asked cautiously, trying not to be too touchy, but, he'd never really been good at that.

"Ugh..." He spat through gritted teeth, "Does it really matter?!" His hostile glare was enough to kill.

Trophy hummed in acknowledgment, he walked over to a broken cabinet and rummaged through it in silence... only finally deciding to speak again as he shut it... "Everyone behaves like they do for a reason, right...?" He muttered.

Pickle blinked, remembering what Taco told him back at her house. He still questioned it's integrity... But something about it tugged at his heart. He sighed, "I don't know... Anymore..." He muttered in a near whisper.

Trophy looked over to him, "Do you have any idea—?"

"—Can we... Change the subject? Please?!"He snapped, looking back at Trophy with hostility once more. Sick of that... Feeling...

Trophy flinched and his gaze softened with slight sympathy, knowing he pushed his boundaries. "Right... Uhm..." He paused, "Knife... About Knife..." his voice trailed off as he searched for topic that could be used.

Pickle tilted his head in acknowledgement, "What about him?"

"He's been— Actin'... Weird... I guess." Trophy informed, as he made his way over to a set of drawers, rummaging through the remains next.

Pickle thought for a moment, realizing that was a fact. "Yeah... It might be because of this whole... Gateway thing." He shrugged... Looking away awkwardly. He proceeded to check a bookshelf briefly.

"You think something is wrong with him?" Trophy asked, not worriedly. Curiously more of. He shut a drawer suddenly which had made Pickle snap his head back briefly.

"I-Uh... I don't know." He said, slightly startled. He regained composure and turned back to the shelf. "Isn't there, something wrong with the lot of us?" He chuckled, smiling a little.

"Heh... I guess that's true." Trophy shook his head, "I don't get what you see in him..." Trophy muttered nonchalantly.

Pickle was a bit shocked by his bluntness. He laughed again, a bit dumbfounded, but not offended. "Not many do. You wouldn't be the first..." He joked, "In the end it comes down to what I see in him, and he sees in me."

Trophy rolled his eyes, "So philosophical... What are you? A love poet?" He grumbled, bored. Supposedly, anyway.

"Don't be so callous, Seems like you need help with your own love life..." Pickle chimed teasingly, which made Trophy nearly choke on nothing and shift to anger.