Jun 25, 2020
Arkham’s jaw twitches, noting the book drifting past him out of the corner of his eyes. He knows the others are angry with him, that his rash decision has led to this, but he does not regret stabbing the son of a bitch, and given the opportunity, he’d do it again. His arms cross over his chest, steps cautious, not wanting to fall. “He would’ve done this anyway,” Arkham insists, frowning, “Look around, think about the spiders,” he winces, the image of the spiders spiraling toward his face rushing to the forefront of his mind before he lifts one hand, wiping over his eyes to try to shake it, “He’s cruel, he would’ve done this anyway.”
