[After the trial lets out, the Balladeer immediately goes to the library. There's something he's been putting off for a little while, but everything that just happened in there reminded him. Reminded him really strongly, towards the end. Was it inescapable?
He'll be curled up in a back corner, reading a thin book that's very nearly the same shade of blue as his nails. It doesn't look long at all, but once he's finished, he just sits there staring at it for a while.
Eventually, he does wander outside, and right into the afterparty happening nearby. Here, he mostly sits and pokes at a slice of apple pie. He knows he ought to be trying to help out, but - well, what's he going to do that hasn't been done already? Someone even made tea this time. It's like Hester said; he wasn't really even supposed to be here.
Later that night...well, he's going to the boy's locker room.Yeah, it's sort of the death room now, but he's sort of the death guy, and the death guy didn't get a chance to shower this morning. He feels gross. Maybe it'll make him feel better? He sits down on one of the benches - not the one that's become our makeshift autopsy table - and begins to take off his shoes to put them in the locker. But he doesn't get there. The movement draws his eyes to his fingers, and he stops to inspect them for a moment instead. Some of the blue paint along the tip of his index finger has chipped away.
It hits him all in a rush; he presses a hand over his mouth to suppress a sudden sob. If he really has to cry, he shouldn't make a scene about it.]
no subject
He'll be curled up in a back corner, reading a thin book that's very nearly the same shade of blue as his nails. It doesn't look long at all, but once he's finished, he just sits there staring at it for a while.
Eventually, he does wander outside, and right into the afterparty happening nearby. Here, he mostly sits and pokes at a slice of apple pie. He knows he ought to be trying to help out, but - well, what's he going to do that hasn't been done already? Someone even made tea this time. It's like Hester said; he wasn't really even supposed to be here.
Later that night...well, he's going to the boy's locker room. Yeah, it's sort of the death room now, but he's sort of the death guy, and the death guy didn't get a chance to shower this morning. He feels gross. Maybe it'll make him feel better? He sits down on one of the benches - not the one that's become our makeshift autopsy table - and begins to take off his shoes to put them in the locker. But he doesn't get there. The movement draws his eyes to his fingers, and he stops to inspect them for a moment instead. Some of the blue paint along the tip of his index finger has chipped away.
It hits him all in a rush; he presses a hand over his mouth to suppress a sudden sob. If he really has to cry, he shouldn't make a scene about it.]