R grabs the piece of metal when he's prompted, wrapping his hands against the edges without worrying about kid stuff like tetanus. He saws away at it jerkily. Grace he isn't, but mindless brute force he can do. Totally do. Between Julie and him they get it out in no time because there's no I in teamwork.
At least he thinks there isn't. It's not like R can spell it out.
He turns to find Julie fell on her butt over with that last tug, the big, almost spear-like shard of metal laying in her lap. R sizes up the shard, gives a sagging nod of approval because it looks long enough to impale a grown man, easy, and starts to reach down and help Julie back to her feet. He also adds that "awesome" to his collection while he's at it. Multi-tasking gets easier and easier the more he does it.
"Water...everywhere. Rats...could be…food?" R tries to sound productive and optimistic. “Not…so bad. Tastes…like…ch…”
The rest of what he means to say slips away. Instead he shrugs. Again.
He can’t look horrified at the idea of Julie starving to death, not with this face, and R can only stare at her, his eyebrows trying to knit together. It’s not a pretty image. He’s seen both Living and Dead starve. Other zombies wither and stop. With the Living, it’s a lot worse. Quicker, but ugly. (And wasteful, but R refuses to share that with the class). R feels a surge of protectiveness claw up in him again, so strong it makes him want to gasp for air. He shoves away the image of Julie becoming hollow, all sharp angles, withering to nothing in fast forward. It’s harder now to maintain his positive thinking with that hanging over their heads.
no subject
At least he thinks there isn't. It's not like R can spell it out.
He turns to find Julie fell on her butt over with that last tug, the big, almost spear-like shard of metal laying in her lap. R sizes up the shard, gives a sagging nod of approval because it looks long enough to impale a grown man, easy, and starts to reach down and help Julie back to her feet. He also adds that "awesome" to his collection while he's at it. Multi-tasking gets easier and easier the more he does it.
"Water...everywhere. Rats...could be…food?" R tries to sound productive and optimistic. “Not…so bad. Tastes…like…ch…”
The rest of what he means to say slips away. Instead he shrugs. Again.
He can’t look horrified at the idea of Julie starving to death, not with this face, and R can only stare at her, his eyebrows trying to knit together. It’s not a pretty image. He’s seen both Living and Dead starve. Other zombies wither and stop. With the Living, it’s a lot worse. Quicker, but ugly. (And wasteful, but R refuses to share that with the class). R feels a surge of protectiveness claw up in him again, so strong it makes him want to gasp for air. He shoves away the image of Julie becoming hollow, all sharp angles, withering to nothing in fast forward. It’s harder now to maintain his positive thinking with that hanging over their heads.