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[b]"[color=ab2020]Let's just meet up at Philips' place. It'll be easier that way.[/color]"[/b]

King had lingered in the doorway after letting everyone know the plan, hand tight around the strap of his hastily filled back pack. The foyer was no longer pristine and homely and fake-- it was [i]ruined[/i]. Glassware and wood chips cluttered the tiled floor, piling high and dusty in the midday sunlight that streamed through the thin windows beside him, holes sat darkly in walls, and the study smelled of smoke and betrayal. King took it all in and his knuckles turned white and his lip began to bleed sluggishly as he worried and worried at it with his top teeth. They shouldn't have done this. They'll be killed [i]or worse,[/i] and King would undoubtedly blame himself because he let it happen without thinking. And then again, he may never see this place again. He was running away, from this house, and this town, and all the problems that came with it.

King felt his back ache. His free hand fell down to close against the Zippo in his back pocket again. The metal was warm with overuse, and the words engraved were dug far enough into the palm of his hand to leave indentations. He drew it out to read the Latin again, and again, and again. The words were a mantra that calmed his never ending anxiety, even if their true meaning was nothing to him as of yet.

[i]Si vis pacem, para bellum[/i]

He left the door ajar when he went. The shadow of an excuse, the only thing he could think to do to shift blame if it was at all possible now. The door was open and King was distressed and hopeful and the world was now against him. If he believed in God he would be praying for safety and comfort and guidance, but he didn't so instead his eyes turned to the backs of his companions and he prayed to them, for them.

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[b]"[color=ab2020]Jesus F. Christ, Philips, this place is fucking huge.[/color]"[/b] King didn't like to look impressed, especially when it came to things about Aiden Philips. He hadn't liked the other blonde ever, probably, looking back on it all as his hand glided over the back of a chilled and shiny car. Their families had always had a strenuous relationship, best described as work rivals, and even if King wasn't a fan of his own family he couldn't help but feel obliged to hate the Philips as well. Aiden could probably be considered collateral that was taken too far, or maybe an outlet for King's frustrations, but in the end he couldn't exactly change the distaste he had for the other boy. So, he fought off his wide eyed stare as he glanced around the garage and the few cars within. 

Idly, King wandered over to the counter beyond the cars and allowed his hand to drift over the surface. The books and toolkit laying just beneath his fingertips attracted him and his sudden roguish ways, and after he scooped up the toolkit with one empty hand he turned to jut a thumb towards the rest of the garage. [b]"[color=ab2020]I'm taking this with us. Anyway, where's the van?[/color]"[/b] His eyes fanned out around the space, keenly glaring into the shadows at a lumpy tarp hidden beyond, [b]"[color=ab2020]Back there?[/color]"[/b]