Alamort | Troy Otto

1.10

[1.10]

It wasn't the best decision in her life, but it wasn't the worst either. She had made many bad decisions in her life, and the one she was about to commit at that moment was nowhere near those.

She didn't know how she ended up there, in the pantry, walking slowly towards Troy Otto. Her eyes watched his every movement before it switched to his face. His right eye was still bruised, and Thena could see the slight bruise that was beginning to form on his jaw, probably from the blow his father delivered.

She tried to get that memory out of her mind as she leaned on shelves opposite from him. She crossed her arms over her chest, or more hugged her upper body, and frowned at the way his hands violently moved around the guns and padlocks he arranged. He didn't hear her walk up to him so when he rose his head and his eyes settled on her frame, he froze slightly, before turning back to the rifles.

When he saw she made no moves to approach him or to engage conversation with him, he turned to her again. "Just a precaution," he stated, pointing to the padlocks and wires that kept the rifles together, "it's the first thing folks will grab if there's a run on the place."

Thena nodded and walked closer to him. She inspected the guns, from their barrels to their grip and through the triggers. She brought one of her hands up while the other stayed wrapped around her upper torso and touched the cold metal of one of them.

"How's your jaw?"

The question was a surprise to both, but Thena couldn't help herself. After all, she came to him, unprepared, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to think. For Troy, the question was something new. Not many people would ask such a thing, not even his family though he never questioned why.

"I don't need your pity," he spat, his tone getting a little too aggressive. He froze again and felt a slight guilt when Thena's hand that Troy's eyes followed stopped at the trigger of one of the rifles.

"I'm not giving you my pity," she tried to say nonchalantly, but her voice came out bitter, "It was just a normal question. But if you don't want to answer, that's fine."

She went to leave, pushing her body off the shelves and taking her fingers off the gun, and Troy's thoughts stabbed him with culpability. "It's ok," he said, his voice just above a whisper, but enough for Thena to hear and take her previous position.

She stayed silent for a moment, debating on her next words. "You and Mike," she said, her tone softer than Troy had ever heard before, "you were close?"

The man nodded and pursed his lips, taking a few steps back from the rifle shelves to lean on the wall behind him. "He was soft, but he was...," he started, a small tremor in his voice that didn't go unnoticed by Thena, "he's been my friend since I was a kid. He stayed in school when I got— I got pulled. But he never quit on me. Never. Even when others did."

"He didn't quit on you, Troy," she said softly, and it was the first time that she didn't yell or hiss his name. It came out like a whisper, something that only the two of them heard.

"He wouldn't even look at me, he just..."

Thena sighed and looked down. "It wasn't because of you," she stated, but Troy didn't believe her. He shook his head and scoffed. "Hard to know how to react to something like that."