The arsonist is a humble man, and he never really needed any help with doing what he does. Never really understood the point of making friends if they were all going to die anyways.
But sometimes, some people are too good to not befriend.
(That was...
"I wanted to tell you to stay safe," Murr blubbered, clutching his empty cup of what used to be lemonade.
"I will," mumbled Firebug. He shut the door and glanced at the tank of gasoline seated by the doorway of his room. With a whimper he tried his best to restrain himself from grabbing it. He wasn't going to risk it on night one, when he'd surely be shot down by a nutcase Veteran. He let out a sigh, setting his purse on the dining room table. He undressed in his room, and lit a candle using one of the many littered matches in his drawer. It was as if him and his entire house was a fire hazard. But he loved it that way.
Holding the flickering candle, Firebug made his way to the window. Using his town list he figured that his neighbors were Ivan to the left and Cosmo to the right. About 5 houses or so to the left resided Mayor Bridger. He shuffled over to the westernmost window. Was the Mayor going to get killed? As he shoved his face against the window he could see the Mayor's house, and sure enough people were slinking towards their dwelling.
The man from house 3- Giles- was sprinting towards John's dwelling, white coat like Dexter's on and suitcase in hand. The two met at the doorway, talked very briefly, and John invited him in. Firebug crouched down, resting his chin on the window shelf. He awaited John's screams of terror as he realizes that Giles is a murderer. But they never came. Giles must be a town member of sorts, perhaps a Doctor of Sheriff.
Another person- a rather short one- strolled up the path from a house Firebug couldn't trace. They stopped and slunk into the shadows of the alley near John's house.
That was enough, thought Firebug. I'm the Arsonist, not the Lookout. He crawled into bed wearing nothing but his boxers, preparing for rest. He snatched his will from his nightstand and wrote his name on top, along with his role claim. He needed to have this by his side just in case he was killed at night, so he could at least be remembered. Back onto the table it went, and with a single breath the candle by his side went off. He then slumped over onto his side and was lulled to sleep by the panicked screams of the Mayor coming from outside.
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