They stop at the top of the escalator together, the wavering darkness down there enough to feel like she could get sucked down into it. Fall down the damn escalator and break her neck or something. She's heard of people dying in similar ways. Smoking too much and walking out a door that didn't had anything beyond it. Getting into a drunk fistfight with a zombie.
She looks at him, a downward tilt to her brows. It's a long, considering look, as if she's waiting for the other foot to hit the ground. She's used to protect, protect, protect, the idea of being proactive. Killing in defense is different than ambushing some person and offing them. She's never done that. It's always about finding the right corner and shooting anything that gets too close.
God. For a second, she's going to refuse. But she thinks: Nora wouldn't pause a second. She's used to doing whatever it takes. She didn't have a general to keep her safe, locked in the stadium. And Nora taught her more to surviving than Dad ever could.
He gets a squeeze back as her breath shudders out. She's not gonna lie and say the idea isn't scary as fuck. She doesn't want to become someone like Perry, who doesn't see people anymore, who just sees bodies. But then she thinks of someone getting R in the head and it fucks with her more than anything.
At least he's not trying to decide things for her own good.
"Okay," she decides. God, what other choice does she have? She can't hide forever, and she's not letting someone take R down because she got scared. She takes the first step down the escalator, slow so he can keep up. "We look for weapons first. I can make do with a bat if that's all we can find." She shrugs, then almost laughs because it feels like she's turning into one. A shrugger. "Try to find a gun, though. I'm seriously better at looking down a barrel."
And not getting too close. That kept people alive. She'd know.
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She looks at him, a downward tilt to her brows. It's a long, considering look, as if she's waiting for the other foot to hit the ground. She's used to protect, protect, protect, the idea of being proactive. Killing in defense is different than ambushing some person and offing them. She's never done that. It's always about finding the right corner and shooting anything that gets too close.
God. For a second, she's going to refuse. But she thinks: Nora wouldn't pause a second. She's used to doing whatever it takes. She didn't have a general to keep her safe, locked in the stadium. And Nora taught her more to surviving than Dad ever could.
He gets a squeeze back as her breath shudders out. She's not gonna lie and say the idea isn't scary as fuck. She doesn't want to become someone like Perry, who doesn't see people anymore, who just sees bodies. But then she thinks of someone getting R in the head and it fucks with her more than anything.
At least he's not trying to decide things for her own good.
"Okay," she decides. God, what other choice does she have? She can't hide forever, and she's not letting someone take R down because she got scared. She takes the first step down the escalator, slow so he can keep up. "We look for weapons first. I can make do with a bat if that's all we can find." She shrugs, then almost laughs because it feels like she's turning into one. A shrugger. "Try to find a gun, though. I'm seriously better at looking down a barrel."
And not getting too close. That kept people alive. She'd know.