A Squids Gotta Do What A Squids Gotta Do || Open
He didn’t think anything through.
The trial was long, went in circles, and then reached its final conclusion. Squids should be happy that he isn’t dead, right? No. In fact, he was beyond two things. One of them was guilt and the other one was pure anger, which was manifesting itself at the moment.
Slash! Splatter!
Squids was...painting on one of the blank canvases in the Art Room, and roughly at that. He had practically gotten paint all over himself but he didn’t care. The lines were rough and wild from brushes being beaten against the canvas--rarely during the entire process was delicacy being used. Every stroke--or in this case, strike, meant something. One was for Marta’s betrayal (he felt like it should’ve been him, at least now) another for Cole, who he now would potentially never know about. A third, fourth and fifth for Apollo, Matthias and Sousuke. He was not an idiot, he did not appreciate being voted for yet he also did not want to be defended.
Of course, the remainder of the strokes were for Leroy. Squids already didn’t care for him all that much, but he just dug himself deeper into the hole--not like the asshole cared, anyway. Honestly, he wanted to take this canvas and--
Needless to say, he was all over the place. When someone else walked in on him, they could hear him say...
“S-Stupids...stupids...stupids!! I’ms sos stupids! stupids!! I...i’ms....I....AUUUGH!”
When he could feel someone behind him, he said bitterly from behind his back,
“H-Have’s you’se comes to rubs it ins?! Have you’se comes to hates me? Let’s gets ones things straights, pallys. I dont’s cares anymores. I don’t’s cares. Haves at it.”