“Do you have any idea how long this is going to clean up? You’re kidding yourself if you don’t think I’m going to make you help. Go on, eat Cassidy, because you’re fucking mine when you’re done.”
Louis laughs under his breath, a mirthless thing though it is. A posturing Atlas is an amusing Atlas, and Louis could see the near physical manifestation of control passing over the room between each of them. Carefully placed marionettes tottering along on their strings. A most adequate comparison to the way they allowed Atlas - mostly - to place his expectations upon them; not that Louis cared, nor felt the urging to follow the leader. “C’mon, let’s let the kid enjoy his meal and make an even bigger mess." Louis rolled his eyes, shrugging just as quickly from the arm and turning to cast one last look back at the apparition Cassidy had become. A ghastly sight that would have anyone else heaving, Louis found incredibly fascinating. However, he supposed he could leave Cassidy be for the time being.
"Next time we should get a before and after!" He calls out over his shoulder as they make their exit, leaving behind the blood and gore. He could only imagine the reactions he would get from that one. The looks of abject horror and disgust his classmates were oft to give him.
Louis flickered between thoughts of staying with Atlas and Ryder or returning to his room to get the pictures somewhere safe and sound. The house had a way of screwing with technology, and despite his recent return to the archaic ways of dark room development for his staged photos he found it faster and less of a hassle to capture Cassidy using digital cameras.
His stride back towards his room took him past his formerly forgotten book, where he can see the spider has re-emerged and begun tracking its weary way across the flooring. An inky black spot against the pristine ground. He imagines its panic in those final moments before his foot comes down over it, the shadow of death looming from above, breaking its form into fine smoke before it began to float away in a cloud of fine mist. Never to be seen again, if it ever existed to begin with.
As he reached his room once more a great many things came into sharp awareness.
Foremostly; there were dozens of things that Louis Price could call himself exceptionally talented at - telling time, and recalling when he needed to be somewhere were not in that repertoire. Given the sudden excitement it was understandable that once he spared a glance at his only functioning timepiece he came to suddenly remember the incredibly idiotically scheduled classes he had opted for that semester.
Being late came as easy to him as breathing oxygen so he took his time gathering various materials and stuffing them with no grace into the ratty overworn brown bag he had carried with him since he was a child. Atlas hates it (he hates most of the rags that Louis chose to adorn himself with,) and that's what made it so entertaining to continue using. It may have a hole the size of his fist where one strap used to be and a mysterious black stain that screamed serial killer, but he knew he wouldn't be throwing it away anytime soon.
He paused briefly, wondering if he should be responsible and remind the still human remainders of their quartet about the importance of a well maintained education - then promptly decided he didn't much care or know whether they had similar hours on their schedules. Finally, he turned away without another word and headed for the door. Leaving a quickly disappearing trail of bloody footprints as his only goodbye.