Darius wasn't certain if he wanted to flee or bury himself into Chris's arm, afraid of seeing the vision of the dead man in his mind. He had certainly wondered, perhaps been convinced that he'd killed people. That smile made him even more convinced that he'd faced it before. His head hung slightly before hearing the words and he turned toward him slightly. "No...-wait, what? Yes.. yes.. fish and chips.. " he parroted and walked where Chris lead. He was his friend, clearly if he didn't feel that way, Darius wouldn't be walking beside him. This was maybe the safest place to be, he told himself.

"Sounds good.." He felt dizzy so he closed his eyes walking blindly a little to take a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself.

The horse was eating ice cream not far away, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as it scorfed it down.

There was a scream behind them. Chris’ face looked a bit like the horse’s.

Darius didn't know whether the scream was for the horse or the driver but he wasn't about to check. He pushed Chris to go away from the scene. He turned back only slightly as he realized he had only one boot and his other was at the scene somewhere.

"Let's get.. that.. food.. right?" He was desperate to leave the situation and hide from this trouble. "Please.. please let's go."

Chris cast another blissful look over his shoulder. Then, he looked to Darius’ feet and started to turn toward the grisly scene.

“Do you want your boot back, Darius?” he asked, as though that were the most pressing issue facing them.

Darius didn't want to look at the grisly scene behind them. If he did, he'd stare and be unable to look away again, or get violently ill. He didn't know which was worse. He gripped Chris's arm and looked from him then back, trying to sweep over so quick he didn't take notice of anything in particular in a vain attempt to locate the boot. He managed to not see the body but didn't see the boot either. He looked down at his one boot and one sock and then nodded in defeat.

"Yes.. Chris.." He wanted to leave but he also did not want to risk his boot being found here. What if they did think this was a murder and not the accident it was. He put a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes. It was an accident he had to remind himself. It was an accident. He threw the boot to stop that mad driver, but he never thought this was even a possibility. Anyone could see it was an accident. It wasn't mur- he shut his eyes tightly and forced away the feelings of nausea.

Chris shook his head, smiling as he gazed upon the grisly scene.

“Do you think you could paint this?” he mused. “Like one of those beautiful, tragic biblical scenes.”

Then, barely waiting for an answer, he looked about.

“I can catch a constable and let him know what happened. Go get your boot, my friend.”

Darius looked at Chris in surprise as he flipped from one thought to another. Had he gotten into something before they'd hung out? He almost agreed as getting the constable seemed like a good idea to clean up the mess...

Oh no no no..

Darius couldn't let him get the constable. They'd see the boot and know he'd hit him. It was a clear case of murder right? It was his strike that knocked the man to his death under the horse and wheels.

He grabbed Chris ' arm tightly, far more than he'd ever dared before and looked at him with desperate eyes.
"Pleas, Chris. No! Let's go somewhere else.. anywhere else. And..the painting..." he gave a silent but quick nod. He didn't want to, but the image was burned in his brain. Certainly it could be immortalized on canvas. He gulped and frowned tugging delicately and prayed he didn't lash out at him.

"Let me.. get my boot and we'll go. Anywhere you want!" That was a very dangerous offer but anything was better than this.

It was a mild, foggy day in Whitby. Neither hot nor cold. Yet Chris still took a moment to pop his collar with his free arm and air his neck, that feral grin only spreading as he watched his ‘friend’ panic.

“God, I feel like some sort of accomplice!” he laughed, elbowing Darius like he was in on the joke rather than part of it. “You can buy my silence at the pub.”

This was ripe enough to milk for a day or two, after all.

Darius heard him and stared for just a moment more. He didn't even care about the pain in his ribs from the hard nudge. To the pub? Really? He smiled like he'd been saved from condemnation and nodded quickly.

"Yes! Of course! To the pub!" He took his arm and guided him from the scene to wherever the nearest pub was. Did he even know where the pub was? It didn't matter, any place was better than there! He was quick to walk and almost immediately felt the cold soak through his sock as it touched a puddle of something. He shuddered and gripped the man's arm tighter.

"To the pub.. it's on me."