Dwight was a nice guy who tried too hard, in Jake’s valuable opinion. That, and he talked too much when he shouldn’t. The man had escaped the Killer (somehow) unscathed this time, except for a few scrapes and bruises- and glasses broken, a small trickle of blood leaking from his temple where plastic had dug into his skin and cracked under the pressure of whatever Dwight had been hit with.
It was just him, Dwight and a Pig whose snoot had probably been booped way too many times for her to chase anymore if she let Dwight escape.
Jake had pulled out a few bandages and small strips of gauze to give Dwight’s superficial injuries a minor patch job, but even when Jake shushed him gently, twice, the purported leader wouldn’t be quiet.
Like, Jake understood that some people chattered nervously when scared or hurt or frightened, but they usually shut up when you told them to. Dwight apparently didn’t have that ability, and Jake couldn’t focus with Dwight going on and on about something frivolous when he’s out of his comfort zone trying to patch him up.
Once more, he tried to tell Dwight to stop talking, even for a little while, but the man wouldn’t. Reaching the end of his usually infinite temper, Jake turned around to pull a wench he had in his toolbox that he had been toting around and brandished it at Dwight like a sword.
"Dwight, shut the fucking hell up or this wrench is going up your ass." He’s not usually so vulgar, but people have been talking to him non-stop recently and Jake’s still not used to having permanent company, despite how long he’s been here. It’s been grating on his nerves and he’s just about had enough.
Normally, he would hate seeing Dwight acting pitiful, but honestly? Dwight needs to pull himself together if he wanted to be any sort of leader. Hell, Jake feels that sometime he could’ve been a better leader then Dwight, even with his less than impressive social skills. At least he didn’t start whining when his glasses were broke- the whole wrench?
Jake blinked. Jake fucking blinked because was Dwight just going on again or was he being serious. He found himself considering just yanking Dwight’s pants down and, in fact, shoving the wrench up there if that would mean he’d be quiet... now that he thought about it, it probably would have the opposite effect-
He hoped Dwight didn’t see the flush that crept up his neck and face.
“The wrench and my fist.” God, please don’t starting trying to flirt with me. If Dwight started to try and flirt with him, Jake might actually have an aneurysm.
