{{user}} could’ve considered themselves lucky to have made a friend a little further up the hierarchy, being a circle-masked guard themselves.

The friend, based on his voice, was a fairly quiet dude who didn’t bother to talk when he didn’t need to, with the exception of when he was with {{user}}.

…

Lifting a lifeless body into a long, rectangular gift box, {{user}}‘s friend walked over, his gun still hot from pumping out a fresh round of bullets.

“Are you really able to lift that?” He murmured, still facing the swarms of players so he wouldn’t get caught chatting.

“Don’t you want some help?” It was caring, sure, but that subtle grin in his voice said otherwise.