The Living Room
It's...odd. The only door in this place that could possibly head outside is locked tightly, guarded by what looks to be a number code and an entire loaded machine gun. Surrounding this door looks to be a strange, almost expansive living space, leading to a door to the theatre room and access to the main hallway.
Clober: She was just minding her own business when Ivan rushed in. Cradling Arsenic in his feathery, singed arms, Clober almost went the usual route of making some snarky comment...almost. She stopped herself upon seeing the prota's weary, panicked expression.
"Uhh...Ivan? Did...did something happen?"
Ivan: He takes a moment to reply, as he sets Arsenic down on the couch gently. "Did you not hear anything that was going on? Looked at your tablet, even!?"
Clober: "No, I left my tablet in my dorm! I just assumed you and everyone else did something stupid while looking for Firestarter's flamethrower."
Ivan: "The cathedral room blew up, Clober. Tarnish and Firestarter are- are dead!"
Clober: Her face goes blank.
"Oh."
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Ivan: ...He sighs, watching her dumbfounded face as it struggles to form words.
"And uh, don't mean to make this worse...since you weren't there at all, you're probably gonna be suspect number one."
Clober: "...Oh."
She looks away, and clenches her hands together tightly. "Ah...well..uh...t-that's just stupid! Everyone already doesn't like me, so of course all the blame's gonna be put on me! Duh-doy!"
Ivan: "..You know, I can't entirely say that doesn't make sense...but you're gonna find evidence to defend yourself, yeah? Complaining probably won't do a lot here..."
Clober: She blinks again, and looks at him.
"Why do you care? Huuh? Of course I'll find evidence! I'm peachy...!"
Ivan: ...
He doesn't say anything as a reply. He's too tired to entertain her, and just looks back at Arsenic as she breathers deeply. A frown coats his face.
Clober: ...She doesn't say anything else, wearing an unsure expression as she also stares at Arsenic. The fluff around her neck seems to twitch.
"...How did it blow up?"
Ivan: "Eh? I, uh, don't know," He replies, "There might've been a bomb, but...how would a bomb be here!?"
Clober: She thinks for a moment, tapping her head with her own leafy tail...
"...The special gift?"
Ivan: "The- The special gift!?" He snaps his head at her in surprise. "I almost forgot about that! There's no other place a bomb could be, so it would make sense that...ugh..."
The feathers on the top of his head flatten. "That damn prawn gave someone a bomb, probably knowing just what they were going to do with it...! I hate that damn thing."
Clober: "Me too. That stupid little f...fffuuck!"
Her claws dig into the side of the couch. "He reminds me of me, and I hate that!"
Ivan: "...Why do you hate that!?"
Clober: Ah, she's said too much.
But just as the pressure falls on her to say something...
Arsenic: "Gh...ghhk..."
She coughs, gripping her own chest as she instinctively retracts her body. Slowly, her eyes open, adjusting to the lights of the living room.
"Am I...dead...?"
Ivan: "You're alive, Arsenic. Y-You're still here."
Arsenic: "T...Then...where's..."
She looks around, slowly lifting her head from the couch. She coughs. "Where's- ghhk- Where's Fire...?"
Clober: She flinches, before glancing at Ivan.
Ivan: ...But Ivan can't find the words. He looks away, his big blue eyes unable to meet Arsenic's gaze.
Arsenic: ...
The realization sets in.
And she roars.
"No. No! You're lying! You're LYING!" She cries, casting daggers at the two of them as her head wildly whips around. "She didn't die, she wouldn't! She...How did I live!? Why did...why did...she..."
That anger present begins to fade...replaced by the cold chill of reality. Tears begin to stream down her face as she sinks into the couch, curling up into a tiny, spiky ball defended only by her tail. Her sniffles and wails are occasionally replaced by roars of wrathful anguish.
Clober: Clober...can't say anything. She can't find any words that would work, and even her instinct to be snarky doesn't surface. This sight...reminds her of something. She can only stare, dread claiming her.
Ivan: ...Gently, he extends a hand towards Arsenic, hesitating.
"A-Arsenic..."
Arsenic: "...Who did this." She shoots her head up, still teary eyed despite her intense glare. "Who DID this!? Who killed her!? Who tried to kill us ALL!?" She yells, her demands echoing down the hall.
Ivan: "We- We don't know yet, Arsenic! I need you to listen to me, for just a moment."
Arsenic: "...Listen to you!?"
She growls. "I got something for once in my damn life, and just lost it forever...and you're telling me to just LISTEN to you!? Do you know what it's like to have nothing, Ivan!? Do you!?"
Ivan: A light flickers in his eyes. He casts a knowing look into those pained eyes of hers.
"You know I do."
Arsenic: Her seething, panicked breaths slow, and while she still clenches her fangs while staring at him...her anger simmers down.
Ivan: "...She had the Wren card, didn't she? ...It was the prawn that carried you out. She stayed behind...we don't know why."
Clober: ...As Ivan and Arsenic looked at each other, she opened her mouth to speak...but paused.
Arsenic: She took notice.
"...What do you have to say!?"
Clober: "..."
She stood there for a moment, her face contorting in an odd fashion, before she abruptly ran off.
Ivan: "..A-Arsenic," He says, trying to focus on the matter at hand, "If you need time to rest, I won't stop you...but I need to go help investigate. We'll find out who did this, I promise you that."
He stands up, looking down at her as she lies there. His expression, although tired, is as kind as he can make it, arms limply hanging at his side.
Arsenic: "...Leave me here." She demands, facing away.
"...But know that whoever told us to go to the cathedral...their voice was a mockery. A voice trying to sound all cutesy...but that strained, rash tone underneath showed they were trying to force it."
Ivan: (...Right, Firestarter mentioned someone yelled at them to go there...but, they did some sort of impression? That might make it harder to figure out.)
He gives a gentle nod. "I'm sorry, Arsenic, really...get a good rest."
And he was off.