The man in the nice suit was used to be in control. The night he died he was in control until one point. If people went back through each of his movements analyzing. Then they would unanimously decide it was when he scratched his leg.
This leg had been bothering him for awhile, the socks he wore were too tight. But that distraction led to his demise. The man in the big hat didn't take kindly to distraction. He'd followed them all along their journey hootin and hollering and asking around. When he was asked how'd he'd found him he said the burnt oil, but also the sick feller. Everyone notices him. At this everyone turned to look at Denver. Denver this whole time wheezed and puffed, sounding something like Darth Vader.
They were all tense staring at each other. Before this, they worked out a plan, and although Blue didn't agree completely, at some point the gas tank would be lit. Denver just had to get close enough to the opposition. And he was doing his part. Until at that point, the man in the nice suit stopped, and scratched his leg.
It seemed then to the man in the big hat that something had shifted he said. Something was weird, and he sniffed the air, and his gaze fell on Denver, who at this point had had slowly inched closer, and was only an arms length away. Why was here there? If the man in the big hat wasn't dead now he would describe the situation like a kitchen sponge placed on a couch, something was just off.
He went for Denver, and the man in the nice suit went for him, already Denver's hands poked a hole in the canister, and were pulling a match through the rough part on the back of the matches. He was knocked over. Then there was a bang. Then a silence.
Blue was safely away, as was the assistant still in the car listening to podcast.
Blue hoped help would arrive, and wished Denver was still there.
This leg had been bothering him for awhile, the socks he wore were too tight. But that distraction led to his demise. The man in the big hat didn't take kindly to distraction. He'd followed them all along their journey hootin and hollering and asking around. When he was asked how'd he'd found him he said the burnt oil, but also the sick feller. Everyone notices him. At this everyone turned to look at Denver. Denver this whole time wheezed and puffed, sounding something like Darth Vader.
They were all tense staring at each other. Before this, they worked out a plan, and although Blue didn't agree completely, at some point the gas tank would be lit. Denver just had to get close enough to the opposition. And he was doing his part. Until at that point, the man in the nice suit stopped, and scratched his leg.
It seemed then to the man in the big hat that something had shifted he said. Something was weird, and he sniffed the air, and his gaze fell on Denver, who at this point had had slowly inched closer, and was only an arms length away. Why was here there? If the man in the big hat wasn't dead now he would describe the situation like a kitchen sponge placed on a couch, something was just off.
He went for Denver, and the man in the nice suit went for him, already Denver's hands poked a hole in the canister, and were pulling a match through the rough part on the back of the matches. He was knocked over. Then there was a bang. Then a silence.
Blue was safely away, as was the assistant still in the car listening to podcast.
Blue hoped help would arrive, and wished Denver was still there.
