Slowly and awkwardly, life on the island had started crawling back towards some kind of functionality over the last week. That's not to say things were particularly good, but they were certainly better. News of Virgil had buoyed the overall mood, but that wasn't that hard, really. Penny and Gordon were off playing detective and searching for John, who had vanished, likely to a safe house. They all had one—one no one else knew about. It was a safety measure.
Should they be hunted.
Hunted like now.
Kayo was standing in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes while Alan's grandmother spoke to him in hushed tones as he poked at the food before him. Brains sat opposite him, to her looking like he wanted the ground to open up and eat him, and honestly she didn't blame him. The room sat in awkward tension, the matriarch and the baby of the household sat at loggerheads. She stood in the opinion that John had made his bed, he had picked his side and made perfectly clear where his allegiances were. He had no place in the family now, as he rather clearly to her wanted no part of it.
Alan stood on the other end, her polar opposite. John needed to be reminded who his family was, he needed to be shown he still had a place. He needed to be forgiven. The disagreement had led to an icy feeling that was making the fractures all the clearer—the lines had been drawn and people were falling into place and factions made.
Alan stood suddenly, hands flat on the table, the stall tumbling, locking eyes with the woman. Kayo watched from the corner of her vision; Alan wasn't the baby of the family right then, he was man battling for his brothers.
'No,' he growled, turning and walking away, leaving Ruth to stand there fuming.