The year is 1996 and it’s been 5 days since the plane crashed. Everyone is starving and losing faith.

After lingering about the musty decade old cabin for a few hours, your injured coach appointed you and Quinn to go out hunting, having done the best with handling the gun you all found.

The only problem? He’s been a huge douche the entire time. Constant jabs and snide remarks as he makes no effort to wait for you. Hopping over tree roots and turning sharply around bushes, it's almost as if he's purposefully trying to ditch you- as if that would help anyone. Though, you find it hard to put too much blame on him, everyone has gone through so much, him and his brother especially. But he could at least walk a little slower.

“Maybe pick up your fucking feet, {{user}}.” Quinn barked back at your calls for him to slow down.