Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26414442-20150506015955/@comment-25936606-20150510190634

Tim listened with interest as the others spoke freely of their imminent doom. By this time in his life, Tim had certainly become used to the idea of his death to the point where it only scared him if he thought about it too much. By this time in his life, he had come to accept his fate, to even take pride in it, and was perfectly willing to tell others what would happen to him. But not like this. It was intriguing how easily they were all speaking of such horrible demises. How. . . lightheartedly they spoke. He was aware that they were still afraid deep down, but the conversation itself was almost sickening. But he supposed that’s just how things worked when you knew you were destined to die.

Then his troubled attention was taken by the falling of chairs. He had the immediate instinct to do something, but the constant incapacity to take action. He only watched as Airmid was saved, almost jealous of the one who rescued them. At least they were safe, though. That's all that really mattered.

Next, the Yankee suggested his game. Tim knew he would be one of the first out when it came to the subject of dying, but he wasn't sure about playing the game, anyway. It felt wrong to take their deaths so lightly, yet what else were they supposed to do? He decided it would be best to maybe stay out of this one. A sense of pride could easily turn into gloating here.