"Is that your real name?" Finn asked.
"Of course," Crow answered with a smile. "If you don't believe me, you can use Sleuth."
Finn ignored the remark, still keeping roughly three meters of distance between himself and the odd man, "Well, it was good meeting you. Good luck, if you're really set on surviving out here alone."
"What about you? All alone?" Crow asked, continuing the conversation.
Finn had begun to turn the other way to leave before being asked that question, stopping as it seemed the stranger wanted to keep speaking.
There was only one answer he felt comfortable giving to the stranger, "Yeah. It's easier for me to stay alone."
"The type that thinks other people will only slow them down? Oh, I'm not judging you—I feel the same way," Crow remarked. "Sometimes conflicting views make things difficult."
"Sure. Whatever you say," Finn said, not up for much conversation.
"You're not much of a talker, are you? It's a big, lonely world now—casual chit-chat is a premium," Crow pointed out with a playful shrug of his shoulders.
It certainly didn't feel like the time for idle conversation, as Finn felt something off about the white-haired, mid-twenties man. A lot of it, however, was what he reasonably expected; the entire world being flipped on its head, now driven by violence and madness was more than enough to change people fundamentally.
"Is there really that much value to talking?" Finn tiredly asked.
"Isn't there?" Crow reversed the question with a shrug of his shoulders. "What's the point of all this fighting-and-surviving if we're just going to be boring, wordless shits. Least you can do with your life is socialize a bit, with what little time we have left here, anyway."
A rise of hostility came from the annoyed tone coming from the strange figure, though Finn only brushed it off as he wanted nothing less than to keep standing there in that room with the amputated orc corpse.
"Sorry, just ranting. Anyway, I'm done here anyway, so I'll head out," Crow said, raising his hands as if to show he was harmless as he walked right past the tense assassin.
Finn didn't let the strange figure leave his sight, turning to watch as the white-haired person left the room. It felt as though he couldn't let his back be turned to the stranger for even a moment, no matter how unassuming they tried to appear.
He watched as the white-haired man left through the lobby of the building, only stopping right before the entrance to wave towards him with a smile that hardly seemed kind. Finn didn't bother waving back, only watching the figure until they left through the door before relaxing his tensed shoulders.
There was a sense of relief that manifested directly through an exhale, feeling as though he somehow avoided conflict that didn't seem to be there on the surface.
He turned back, looking at the grotesque display of the slain orc in the storage room, still not sure of what would call for such overkill.
'What was that guy doing in here? Those noises I heard before I came here...' Finn questioned, stepping over to the mutilated body of the monster.
["Dark Threads"] [Mana: -100] [2000/2100]
He quickly used the sturdy string to wrap tightly around his forearm, cutting off the bleeding while also keeping his hand connected.
Crow didn't seem in a rush to stop him from stabilizing, continuing to speak as he flipped his cleaver between his fingers, "Special, yes. A kindred spirit; one of the few people in this world I cared about. I can see now how he died, though; you're a killer, like us—birds of a feather."
"I'm nothing like you," Finn tiredly retorted, not caring much for conversing with the one he saw as a freak. "You get some sort of kick out of this kind of thing. I only do it when I have to. That's all there is to it."
"Do you pride yourself on that small, pointless difference? The truth is, killing is killing. Doing it with a meek heart isn't any better," Crow said.
"I just can't understand nutcases like you. If we're going to do this, then just shut your mouth and hurry on with it," Finn tiredly responded.
Crow released a perturbed sigh, "If that's how you want it to be. No trouble; I'll make you talk soon enough."
There was no avoiding a fight at this point, even if Finn felt himself at a severe disadvantage; his right hand was completely disabled, leaving him one-handed in a small, enclosed room. To make it worse, it was his dominant hand that was left unable to be used, yet–he had no other choice than to ready himself, switching his dagger to his left.
["Sleuth Status"]
[...Assessing information about [???]...]
[Name: Crow]
[Age: 26]
[Designated Class: Hunter]
[Level: 24]
Confirming the class of the one before him, there was a greater sense of annoyance from the injured man.
'Shit. Just my luck–the worst matchup for an assassin,' Finn thought.
As if sensing his unease now, it was the white-haired, cleaver-wielder that made the first move after patiently waiting. It was an action that completely caught Finn off-guard: he found himself looking at the cleaver rapidly approaching his face, spinning in mid-air without anybody handling it.
The weapon had been thrown; a completely off maneuver.
Finn slid his feet to the right, side-stepping it just as the cleaver collided with the wall behind him, lodging itself into the concrete. As he looked towards where the hunter was once standing, he already found that the man had moved across the room, grabbing hold of the cleaver and plucking it from the wall in a mere moment.
'He's so aggressive–I need to gain some space to make my move,' Finn thought.