Chapter 4 - Some Things Never Change

The world had transformed into one of hope. My clothes clung to my skin-seemingly mixed as I made my way to the table loaded with my friends, tray in hand. Debating, I realised the countryside here was a nice contrast to the leaky, dark ceilings of the Pit. Though the place was pleasant; it made my insides coil like a snake to see the civilisation here; sweet small talk occurred almost contantly; and though it took a while for my icy calm to return, it swathed over me nicely.

Turning my gaze on the people next to me, I admired the colours they had deemed appropriate. Due to the fact we were factionless, and the system was falling ash, we found it appropriate to show our true natures. Freakily, people eyed us with suspicion, but soon enough I noticed Peter toying with me.

"What's wrong with you, Stiff? Brain-dead already?"

"Sometimes I worry about those little cells of yours," I mutter, biting off the last piece of hamburger from my fork. "You know, making fun of others' intelligence is a sign of taking your own,"

"Yuck. Didn't your mother teach you to eat with your mouth closed?"

"Didn't your mother imply to not talk when you're not spoken to?"

When I'd thought I'd won, I picked up my tray to sling, before noticing the smirk plastered to his face. "She did." he said. "But I never listened."

Probably why you're a bastard, I thought. Once a bastard, always a bastard...