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PARKER SPENT MORE time observing Roy than he did his ominous surroundings. By the time the sight of the last cabin peeked through countless trees, the younger man was sure he had his companion totally figured out. Roy preferred silence- and questions that weren't outright dumb. He didn't like small talk (which was perfectly fine, since Parker didn't either), and he must've had some pet peeve towards mishandling guns- for he promptly instructed Parker the correct way to hold the heavy rifle in his arms. He muttered something about showing Parker how to fire it, and that was when the younger one made the assumption that Roy was more than just curse words and placing blame.
Parker actually grew some sort of apprehensive affinity towards Roy- in a, "If you're about to die, know that I'll try to save you," way. Would they discuss sports and cars and other "masculine" things that Parker was not familiar with? No. But Parker felt safer than before. After it all, he'd rather be with Roy than lie in the snow; he felt he made the right choice, (not like he even had a choice in being pseudo-kidnapped.)
The cabin almost blended into oblivion. If not for the beams of their flashlights, stolen from one of the other cabins visited first, they probably wouldn't have even noticed the structure. It seemed so small between all the towering trees, yet seemed so huge when standing right in front of it. The lodge itself made Parker just a bit nervous- but he blamed that on the night sky and the darkness blanketing them. The cabins seemed so homely in the sunlight.
A faint, warm light shone behind a curtain covering the closest window. As much as this made Parker anxious, it made him excited. He was excited to finally interact with a familiar face- even if he and Clara had never spoken much. The thought itself elated him.
But that elation let itself collapse when he got close enough to the door to notice the splinters protruding from the frame. Roy, stopping Parker from sauntering in, knocked on the slightly-open door- almost politely, reminding Parker of calmer times when being barged in on was the most outrageous nuisance to exist. The younger man shot a look to Roy, who was too focused to even notice; his hands, retracting from the door, wrapped tightly around the shotgun he chose from the car.
Parker watched as he raised it towards the door, finger hovering over the trigger, vigilant eyes glued to the little slither of light creeping through the slight opening between the broken door and its frame. He almost wanted to protest, but then thought about who could be lingering inside, who could be vicious enough to kick in the door. The chances of him shooting Clara seemed minuscule.
But the chances of Roy shooting Lucas, who promptly aimed a pistol at the older man's head as soon as the door shot open, seemed much more greater. An entire scene of Roy accidentally killing Lucas played out in Parker's mind (far too detailed- he could see the life leaving Lucas' body as if it was right in front of him,) and this caused Parker to hurriedly yank the barrel of the shotgun in his direction, attempting to pull it from Roy's vice-like grip.
