➵ running out of time.

[broadsidewaltz]

 Who| Hubert and Tom
What| Hubert getting in a fight and then murdered
Where| Near the lighting rig
When| Week Three
Warnings/Notes| character death and fighting and stuff! heck yeah

Military officer or not, spending a prolonged amount of time in this place proved more stressful than not. Despite the usefulness of supplies, the terrain was wholly unfamiliar and the open space unnerving. Thankfully though, things were going rather favorably. Having met up with his mentor and a few new acquaintances made, along with the shotgun that now hung on a crass makeshift sling on his shoulder... yeah, it was a lot of good luck, even with the tense fact that he was going to perhaps die in the coming weeks.

That luck of his was going to run out, certainly.

And, as luck would have it, Hubert found himself on something of a usual patrol by now, starting to accustom to these less than savory living conditions-- taking to making a tour of the Arena. It was easier than waiting holed-up somewhere only to get cornered and lose the upper hand. Although he could just as easily be attacked from any which angle here, at least there was enough space to dodge, to guard, to fight back.

Nearing what seemed to be some sort of control for the lighting, he peered curiously at it. He had never been to this part yet, and his growing curiosity would lead him closer still, a hand moving up instinctively to the sling his gun was wrapped in-- just to be sure.

Comments

[pimpcanes]

There's something about military training that never quite leaves somebody's posture; even decades after Cain had deserted his draft and slouched and sprawled his way back into casual body language, there was a sort of need to pace, to keep an eye on the location with shoulders tight. Tom saw it and never really mentioned it, as it was useful and the last thing anyone needed to get Cain to do something was to make him self-conscious. For his part, Tom has no martial background, but Hubert's about as subtle as a brick to the head about advertising his here.

Tom's crouched over something at the ladder leading up to the lighting rig, picking at a lock with marginal success. His tone is casual as his head jerks to to assess the newcomer, but his grip on his cane tightens and his eyes are darting about, taking in Hubert's silhouette, sizing up the threat.

"Hey, lad, fancy giving me a hand over here?"