Scott had almost stayed in for the night. He'd barely talked to Guybrush at dinner, his word gauge depleted after his talk with Sam. And after a whole morning spent in bed, the prospect of burrowing back into his sheets was a ridiculously welcome one. He could have just cocooned himself up for the whole night, not having to deal with anyone or anything. Yeah. Not dealing sounds pretty good... he had thought. It was the relentless twists of guilt in Scott's stomach, however, that kept him from taking the easy road in the end. Somewhere inside of him, some sense of decency still dwelled. Usually it was too weak to get past the hulking mass that was Scott's Great Wall of Avoidance, but the gravity of the situation had caused that wall to erode some tonight — just enough to let his guilt lift him to his feet.
He wasn't sure what he ought to do yet, he thought as he went through the motions of changing for the night (avoiding the yellow shirt and parka he had worn that night in favour of his green one). He could find the others, maybe? Look for Indy's body? Do something else he might do on a "normal" night? He didn't know. He had no idea. He was just Scott Pilgrim; he didn't have some master plan; he just kind of did stuff and hoped for the best.
And look where that got you, a smug, familiar voice echoed through the fog of his mind.
No, he told himself, scrunching his eyes shut and bopping himself on the side of the head. He wasn't going to think like that. He wasn't going to let himself turn into Peter Parker Pity Party v.2.0. Whatever it was he did tonight, it was going to be more worthwhile than laying around wallowing in a big vat of "whyyyyyyy?" Indy would have agreed, he was sure.
His vague idea for now was to see if he could still catch anyone he knew. Maybe Peter, if he wasn't somewhere else already. Sam had said Peter hadn't seemed unstable anymore, but that still wasn't saying much. Scott still wanted to find the younger boy himself, make sure he was okay with his own two eyes. If nothing else, he wanted to convince Peter that what happened couldn't have been helped, and that it wasn't his fault.
Maybe he needed to convince himself a little of that, too.
After Guybrush leaves
He wasn't sure what he ought to do yet, he thought as he went through the motions of changing for the night (avoiding the yellow shirt and parka he had worn that night in favour of his green one). He could find the others, maybe? Look for Indy's body? Do something else he might do on a "normal" night? He didn't know. He had no idea. He was just Scott Pilgrim; he didn't have some master plan; he just kind of did stuff and hoped for the best.
And look where that got you, a smug, familiar voice echoed through the fog of his mind.
No, he told himself, scrunching his eyes shut and bopping himself on the side of the head. He wasn't going to think like that. He wasn't going to let himself turn into Peter Parker Pity Party v.2.0. Whatever it was he did tonight, it was going to be more worthwhile than laying around wallowing in a big vat of "whyyyyyyy?" Indy would have agreed, he was sure.
His vague idea for now was to see if he could still catch anyone he knew. Maybe Peter, if he wasn't somewhere else already. Sam had said Peter hadn't seemed unstable anymore, but that still wasn't saying much. Scott still wanted to find the younger boy himself, make sure he was okay with his own two eyes. If nothing else, he wanted to convince Peter that what happened couldn't have been helped, and that it wasn't his fault.
Maybe he needed to convince himself a little of that, too.
[To here]