029 ♪

[numanstan]

[It's a dark Christmas day. Grey, and dreary.

Vince is walking down the streets of Mayfield in an uncharacteristically drab overcoat, an even more uncharacteristically grim expression on his face. Ever since he sent in the letter, he's been wondering what the reply would be-- you can tell when they mess with your body, your surroundings, but how can

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[jazzersizing]

[And Howard is crouching behind some bushes, peering around all suspicious like, keeping an eye out for Old Gregg and all that.

When he spots Vince, though, he stands and walks over, acting as though he hadn't been chilling in the bushes.]

Vince! You haven't seen him round here, have you?

[numanstan]

Haven't seen who, Howard?

[His voice is stiff, but there's the slightest crack of emotion when he says his name.]

[jazzersizing]

[He raises an eyebrow and gives Vince an odd look.

Something was off.

Howard chooses not to address it though, and just shakes his head and looks around again.]

Old Gregg, remember? I've been trying to avoid him. Haven't seen him once, so I'm doing a right good job. But...one can't be too careful, you know. The loon might be lurking about anywhere.

[numanstan]

Yeah, that's the thing about loons. Always hidin' where y'least expect them. Might even be right by your side the whole bloody time.

[His hand slips almost unnoticeably into his coat.]

[jazzersizing]

You'd probably know, if one was by your side. They're terrible at hiding their loony--[There are some vague hand motions.]--ness, after all.

We've run into quite a few of them, so I suppose that gives us an advantage, yeah?

[numanstan]

Yeah... [He takes out the gun.] You'd think that, wouldn't you?

[jazzersizing]

[He takes a slow, careful step back.]

What're you going on about, mate?

[numanstan]

You're bloody sick, y'know that? All those years, pretendin' to be my friend when you... you... you killed them!

[The gun isn't pointing at Howard yet, just at the floor. He's holding it like someone who's never held a gun in his life.]

[jazzersizing]

Vince--[He's not sure what to say. He hasn't killed anyone. He knows that, and Vince of all people should know that too.

Yet here he was. Vince. His friend--His only real friend--accusing him of murder.

And what was there to say about that, really.]

[numanstan]

Howard... [He grimaces and turns his face away.]

Y'killed my parents.

Prepare to die.

[There's nothing behind his eyes as he raises the gun and cocks the hammer.]

[jazzersizing]

[Under normal circumstances, Howard would be begging for his life, probably sobbing uncontrollably in the process. However, this was not a normal circumstance. Far from normal, actually.

Because it was Vince. Vince wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone his best mate.

Which left Howard at a loss. He was staring down the barrel of a gun, and couldn't really comprehend the situation fully. It was horrifyingly surreal.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then opens it to an odd strangled sound. Finally, he manages to gather some of his thoughts and speaks:]

Come on, Vince, you wouldn't kill me. We're best mates, been through thick and thin together. You and me, we're a dynamic duo. Constantly...and besides, I don't even know your parents. I mean. I knew you had them, always figured they...if you'd grown up in the jungle, and...But why on Earth would I--To my best mate--Just doesn't make sense, does it?--[And he continues on like that, babbling nervously without saying anything of any real value. Still trying to comprehend what was

[numanstan]

[At first, he lowers the gun a bit. His mouth opens slightly, like he has something to say.

Then he just closes his eyes and fires.]

[jazzersizing]

[There was an odd burning sensation as the bullet slammed into him, and for those few moments, time seemed to slow. The seconds seemed incredibly long as he stopped stumbling through useless words and fell backwards. He didn't see his life flash before him like he'd expected, though.

No, he just saw Vince. The gun. The sky.

And then nothing.]