All Finny had wanted was to traverse the paths of the casino-turned-death-trap with Mrs. Bones at his side, as it seemed they were the only two sensible people there. (Okay, so maybe she was more sensible than him, but her sensibility kept his emotions in check. Sort of.) Instead, they had Mr. Angry-Professor-Man, Mr. Lame-Warnings, and Mr. Touching-Things-He-Shouldn't accompanying them into the depths of the building, making the chance of deciding his own fate a non-option. Even Mrs. Bones' grip on his hand, it seemed, couldn't quell his anxiety.
"For someone who almost got crushed by a boulder, you're sure eager to touch things that will release a curse from the fiery depths of hell upon us," he complained, his tone rather dry for such a dramatic statement. Should he just close his eyes and wait for the inevitable darkness to envelop him? Take his chance at scoring a kiss before they all perished? Take out a half-ripped piece of parchment and write his last will and testament with the blood of the kid who was surely going to die from touching the urn-thingy?
The options were endless.
"For someone who almost got crushed by a boulder, you're sure eager to touch things that will release a curse from the fiery depths of hell upon us," he complained, his tone rather dry for such a dramatic statement. Should he just close his eyes and wait for the inevitable darkness to envelop him? Take his chance at scoring a kiss before they all perished? Take out a half-ripped piece of parchment and write his last will and testament with the blood of the kid who was surely going to die from touching the urn-thingy?
The options were endless.
— set by MJ! —
☙ Post Log ❧