Dave slowly fell into sleep, in the fetal position. It was only 3pm but he could care less...nothing had really meant anything to him for a while. His 'room' was a mess, yet he couldn't gather any motivation to even try. Grief was one hell of a way to kill his mood. He doesn't even go outside of his room anymore, not like he'd do anything out there if he did manage to muster up what little courage he had.
Dee had been making sure he wasn't doing anything to himself, but she couldn't manage to make his mood any better. She was looking through the keyhole in Dave's door and sighed when he went to bed. She'd been hoping that he'd at least get a little better since they got here, but if anything, he might've been getting worse.
Of course, she wasn't fond of him considering that he was the one who killed her, but Jack was close with him. She considered them to be friendly rivals, but even so, she cared about him...to a degree. She backed away from the door and heard paws coming her way. Lo and behold, she lookeded down to see Blackjack. She bent down and pet him lightly. "Is William doing any better?"
Dee frowned and shook her head, it'd been getting so bad that Dave didn't even keep Blackjack in his room anymore, which wasn't a great sign. "I see..." Dee looked back at Dave's door, but soon looked away again. "...I kinda feel bad, Blackjack...is that bad?" Blackjack tilted his head.
"It's normal (and natural) to feel empathy...even to someone like him." Dee sighed. "I'll talk to you later, Blackjack..." Blackjack nodded and walked back over to the others. Dee headed over to her room and shut the door. She walked over to her bed and lied down. She grabbed her sketchbook below her pillow and began to draw.
---
"Where am I...?" The man, who currently found himself wondering around without direction, whispered under his breath. He'd describe it as a maze or labyrinth of sorts. It doesn't help that he couldn't exactly see anything.
---
Dee scribbled some lines before graduating to sketching things in her room. She'd been told that she was always drawing when she was younger, so no one was surprised when she was almost exclusively drawing in her free time.
Blackjack had walked over to Steven and Peter and laid down on the couch. Peter started petting Blackjack and sat down next to him. Steven walked over and stood next to them. "How's Dee doing, Blackjack?" In all honesty, Dee had been spending most of her time in her room. "She's not doing bad per se. She's just becoming more independent."
Peter sighed, but didn't say anything. "How're you doing?" Blackjack tilted his head at the question. "I'm doing well, why?" Steven shrugged. "No harm in asking." Peter had been looking away from the conversation. "It's 7:23." Steven looked at him. "I'll go back to my room, see you." Blackjack nodded and jumped down.
Dee was now sitting up and deep in thought. Something about the meaning of life...(don't tell her it's 42). She'd left her door slightly open, allowing Blackjack to freely walk in. "Dee?" Said person almost jumped from the sudden noise. "Oh...you scared me-" Dee took a second to calm down. "Whatcha wanna talk about?"
"Well...I have something to tell you." Blackjack had jumped on her bed by the time he was done talking. "Hm?" Blackjack sighed. "Do you promise not to tell the others this...at least for now?" Dee was now really confused, but simply nodded. "There's no easy way to say this...uh...Jack lied to you guys." Dee waited a second for a 'sike' or something. "Uh...you mean-?" Blackjack nodded. "But I think I've finally thought of a solution t-" He was cut off. "W-wait, is that why Dave's...y'know...?"
Blackjack was taken aback from the sudden question. "..." Dee looked away for a second. "Let me close the door..." There was a sudden silence after the echo of the door closing stopped. Blackjack took a second before continuing. "Like I was saying...I think I have a plan. I know it's been months since we last saw him, but I've suddenly felt his presence... somewhere..."
