omniavincit: (wag of the finger)
don't call me billy ([personal profile] omniavincit) wrote in [community profile] wasteyard 2019-07-29 09:41 pm (UTC)

Which he does.

After poking his head in the phone booth, William decides against using it as a changing room—instead he heads behind it to put on a new pair of pants and, why not, a different shirt. Everything has spider blood on it anyway. The pee-stained pants he tosses into the bushes: maybe fifty years from now someone will find and puzzle over them; maybe tonight some savage creature will pick up his scent and stalk him.

There isn't exactly a crowd to lose himself in, but he joins the line for food and makes a plate of mystery meat, a few crackers, a dab of dip he's not sure he'll be brave enough to touch. He doesn't sit where he was before, by the fire, and he deliberately doesn't sit anywhere near Ellie—he settles down by one of the upended trees, idly tries to match the people with what they might have contributed to the spread.

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