<span style="font-family: Jambetica;"><span style="font-size: 115%; line-height: 116%;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Early Fall, 2014 02:49 PM<br/>Shepherd's Glen<br/>Maine<br/><br/><table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;">His orbs rose to the dusty looking windows of the house as if he felt eyes upon him. Naturally, there was nothing there. This was also not the first time that he felt as if he was being followed. Logan was far from being someone who slept with a loaded gun under his pillow, or somebody who was considered to be persecuted by paranoia. Having these sensations did not automatically mean that something or somebody out there was trying to harm him - well in the way he interpreted it - but at the same time he could not truly understand what could be then the reason behind the uneasiness, and the sense of fear that would course through his frame, if paranoia itself was not a <span style="font-style: italic">possibility</span> to be considered.<br/><br/>He took a glimpse of his friend to see him crack his neck before he spoke, as they walked towards his car down the deserted street. The smile on Jacob's face and the chuckle that escaped his lips brightened up Logan's mood and he was pleased to find out that his friend was still looking forward to scavenge goodies after the bloody encounter he had with the blue-collar worker upon Jacob's arrival. That meant, he wasn't assed out. Logan smiled in return with lips closed and began to unbutton his cardigan as he paused by his own car. <br/><br/>The fact that Jacob wanted to stay around too made him feel a little bit more secure knowing that he wouldn't be spending the next couple of nights alone in a town like Shepherd's Glen. Even though Jacob was amputated below the knee, not even once did Logan see him as someone who was handicapped. Yes there were certain things that would be hard for him to do anymore like running fast, but other than that, in Logan's opinion, Jacob was pretty functional for a man who brushed death. So the blonde one was here for a different reason than the one where he came to offer a helping hand to his friend. Whatever this other reason was, it made the mucous membranes of his mouth go dry.<span style="color: #BFBFBF">"Fa' sho, you'll find just what you came here looking for, Jacob."</span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;">He pulled one of the back doors open and fetched for his messenger bag which contained his laptop and other PC devices. He ambled to the trunk of the car where he paused to store the bag safely inside . <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"Anyway I gotta get back to work this coming Sunday."</span> He reached inside a forest green backpack that was inside the trunk and revealed in his hands certain items that he carried with him as he strolled around his car to the passenger seat. He continued speaking in a relaxed tone, not too loud, not too low. He almost never raised his voice unless he needed to. He glanced at Jacob and smiled with a backward tilt of his head. <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"That should give you enough time to raid the area, right? And then we can go fishing."</span> He chuckled at his own randomness and bent over to take a look at his wound into the side rear-view mirror. <br/><br/>He began to clean the wound with an alcohol-free wipe, then soaked some gauze with whiskey <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"Last time I went fishing though was four years ago...</span>" He peeked at Jacob. <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"near Silent Hill."</span> He looked away. <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"I don't think I've told you but, it didn't really turn out good... got wrecked."</span> He inhaled deeply. He bit his lower lip as he winced couple of times while disinfecting the wound. <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"Goddamn this shit burns... is good for drinking though, want some?"</span> He took a quick sip from the whiskey flask then offered the container to the other as he straightened up and leaned back against his car. <br/><br/>The wound was now covered with an adhesive medical band-aid. Whether his companion accepted the flask or not, Logan fixated a serious gaze on Jacob, searching his grey-blues for <span style="font-style: italic">something</span> - the smile he's been sporting this whole time, now fading away. He lowered his tone of voice to its lowest minimum pitch. <span style="color: #BFBFBF">"How much do you wanna know, Jacob? I mean, beside helping you out and shit, do you really wanna know why I'm here?"</span></td></tr></table></div>
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