She had to ask eventually. Ignoring the fresher blood on him wasn't going to do her any favors, and it's a practical question. She knows there were twenty-four people going in, and with the two of them, there's twenty-two others. Twenty-one.

This time her only answer is a shrug, not feeling generous enough to keep it from hanging in the air. She gets it, the whole -- he's trying, he's trying a hell of a lot more than any Dead ever should or even should be able to. It's instinct. They can't help it. Anywhere else, she might've laughed at a zombie apologizing.

Instinct. Like shooting a kid's face off with a shotgun when he tries to down you. She knows. She doesn't have room to be judgmental in this world. Or their world, at least.

As Julie measures out the chances of where each split-off tunnel leads, she flinches at the sound. Twenty, at least. "I get it, R. It happens." It's easier to slough that weight off her shoulders when he isn't the only killer in here. The whole game's about killing, it's the point. It wouldn't be any different than throwing a few humans into a lion pit.

"When I was a kid, Dad used to tell me it was a dog-eat-dog world. I don't think he meant it literally at the time." That'd been before she'd seen her first Dead, before she'd known about him. Before she was ten with her first gun and already getting killer aim. "We've gotta survive. We're not gonna have any help this time." Not from the Living, not from the Dead. She took his hand again and pulled towards the tunnel between the scream and the opposite direction, where the lights flickered bright enough she could see the edge of an escalator. Down. Might lead somewhere good.