Options. They had actual options in what vehicle they chose. Sarah glanced towards the door that probably led to the garage, half tempted to just run in and check to see exactly what their options were. She held off, though, a pit of nerves rising in her stomach. She didn’t want to be disappointed just yet, in case they were just tiny little cars that wouldn’t help them at all. Her emotions had been a roller coaster ride for days, rising to new heights and then plummeting when something bad happened. She missed the days when her mood remained around the same level, and she could expect things to be more or less the same day after day. “That’s smart,” she replied, offering him a faint smile. Eating nothing but canned food wasn’t something that she was looking forward to exactly, but it was better than nothing.
Her cheeks reddened a little when she realized that he’d been watching her struggle, but if he wasn’t going to comment on it, then neither was she. It was hard to tell where she stood with him after last night. She was comfortable around him; wasn’t worried about him just up and leaving or trying anything against her. He seemed like a decent enough person. The title of ‘friend’ was still a ways off, but she trust him enough. He wasn’t teasing her about her height, which was nice. Even though she was around average height, some guys still tended to tease her about it. “Hopefully they’ll actually have some decent coats. Maybe even some snow pants.” That reminded her that they should check the garage as well for anything that might help them in the snow. Snow shoes or even some boots would help them out in the long run.
His words caught her off guard. Actually cooking a meal hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d thought they were in go-mode, not stopping for rest until they either made it to her aunt’s place or ran out of gas. “I’m…” She trailed off, hesitating in her answer. Getting out of there as fast as possible might have been the smarter idea. The horde of zombies could get back at any second, and the longer they stayed in the house, the more the odds were stacked against him. But there was something in his words that made her pause. He’d said that he needed to ground himself, which meant that he was most likely freaking out on the inside. “I’m starving, actually, so that sounds great to me,” she eventually answered, offering him a small smile. “I think we’ve got enough time for a decent meal.”
She opened up the water and took a long drink of it. The liquid felt cool, relieving just how dry her throat had been. She was itching to get going, but a meal would be nice. And Brendan might have needed the meal - and the normalcy that came along with it. “Thanks for this, by the way,” she said once she’d set the bottle back down onto the counter. “I’m going to head out to raid the closet. Yell if you need anything,” she said, giving him a quick smile before she headed back into the dining room. She avoided looking at anything that littered the shelves - it looked as though someone had taken most of the photos, but there were still some left. She padded over towards the hall closet, hesitating just a second before she tugged the door open. A couple of empty hangars hung in front of her, but there were still a couple of coats left. “What size do you wear?” She called, keeping her voice soft as she started to pick through the clothing.
Kennedy was shaking his head when he caught sight of her grin, and he decided that he liked the look of it. It was a good look on her, making her eyes pretty and bright. He could easily picture her sitting across from him at some hole-in-the-wall bar, just hanging out one Saturday evening with everything totally normal. It was a damn shame that they’d met after everything had gone to hell. “Or maybe they hated themselves because they invented it,” he suggested, giving her a wide grin as he started to laugh once more. “That’s good. Anyone that’s even considering being a lawyer is usually no good.” He watched her for a moment, his grin turning sly as she spoke. “Oh, really? You’re admitting that you’re bossy? Even just a little?” He prodded, his grin eventually turning into a full blown smirk.
He kept his gaze on her for a long moment before looking out the window. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, and he might’ve been looking at her a little too long. His eyes darted to a lone figure shuffling through the snow. It was hard to make out anything specific due to just how much snow was falling, but the figure slowly moved into the orangey glow of the street light. Its arm was bent at an awkward ankle, and there was a dark trail of what he figured to be blood, staining the snow behind it as it walked. He looked back to Abby, trying not to grimace. “Wouldn’t the basics be the same though? Like how to stop bleeding, or patch up a wound?” He asked, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her and not on the thing outside. “Dealing with teenagers is a learned skill. If you can keep them entertained, though, you can deal with them easy enough.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, letting the liquid warm him up. “Really? I thought George Clooney did it for just about everyone,” he said with a laugh. “He usually does it for me.”
A soft hum left him as he nodded his head. There were a few exes of his that had almost made him do the same. There was a tiny part of him that wished that he’d stuck it out with some of them longer, though, just so he wouldn’t have had to be alone with the news had hit. “I can’ t- I can’t begin to imagine how much of a prick a person would have to be to do that. He deserved a hell of a lot more than you just fucking up his drum kit.” Maybe it was the fact that he was a teacher that made the thought of it irk him so much. He’d made a lot of stupid choices, but he’d never understood when people would get angry with their significant other for putting more focus into school than into that person at that time. School was important and expensive. It was almost a holy thing - you didn’t fuck with it.
“Getting drunk wouldn’t be as much fun if we kept our filters,” he mused, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. She was cute like that, with the blanket wrapped around her, the mug held firmly in her grasp. “Wondering is one thing. Admitting it is another,” he teased, catching sight of her flushed cheeks. Something flipped in his stomach at the realization that he was the one to make her flush. She’d thought of him naked, probably. He couldn’t help his grin then, the corners of his lips tugging up despite an attempt to tame them. “Oh come on, everyone’s done that,” he whined, holding out his hand for the bottle. “Am I allowed to ask why you had to fake sick or fake an injury to get out of the date? Was he a douche? Or was it a blind date? Or something else?”
Her cheeks reddened a little when she realized that he’d been watching her struggle, but if he wasn’t going to comment on it, then neither was she. It was hard to tell where she stood with him after last night. She was comfortable around him; wasn’t worried about him just up and leaving or trying anything against her. He seemed like a decent enough person. The title of ‘friend’ was still a ways off, but she trust him enough. He wasn’t teasing her about her height, which was nice. Even though she was around average height, some guys still tended to tease her about it. “Hopefully they’ll actually have some decent coats. Maybe even some snow pants.” That reminded her that they should check the garage as well for anything that might help them in the snow. Snow shoes or even some boots would help them out in the long run.
His words caught her off guard. Actually cooking a meal hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d thought they were in go-mode, not stopping for rest until they either made it to her aunt’s place or ran out of gas. “I’m…” She trailed off, hesitating in her answer. Getting out of there as fast as possible might have been the smarter idea. The horde of zombies could get back at any second, and the longer they stayed in the house, the more the odds were stacked against him. But there was something in his words that made her pause. He’d said that he needed to ground himself, which meant that he was most likely freaking out on the inside. “I’m starving, actually, so that sounds great to me,” she eventually answered, offering him a small smile. “I think we’ve got enough time for a decent meal.”
She opened up the water and took a long drink of it. The liquid felt cool, relieving just how dry her throat had been. She was itching to get going, but a meal would be nice. And Brendan might have needed the meal - and the normalcy that came along with it. “Thanks for this, by the way,” she said once she’d set the bottle back down onto the counter. “I’m going to head out to raid the closet. Yell if you need anything,” she said, giving him a quick smile before she headed back into the dining room. She avoided looking at anything that littered the shelves - it looked as though someone had taken most of the photos, but there were still some left. She padded over towards the hall closet, hesitating just a second before she tugged the door open. A couple of empty hangars hung in front of her, but there were still a couple of coats left. “What size do you wear?” She called, keeping her voice soft as she started to pick through the clothing.
Kennedy was shaking his head when he caught sight of her grin, and he decided that he liked the look of it. It was a good look on her, making her eyes pretty and bright. He could easily picture her sitting across from him at some hole-in-the-wall bar, just hanging out one Saturday evening with everything totally normal. It was a damn shame that they’d met after everything had gone to hell. “Or maybe they hated themselves because they invented it,” he suggested, giving her a wide grin as he started to laugh once more. “That’s good. Anyone that’s even considering being a lawyer is usually no good.” He watched her for a moment, his grin turning sly as she spoke. “Oh, really? You’re admitting that you’re bossy? Even just a little?” He prodded, his grin eventually turning into a full blown smirk.
He kept his gaze on her for a long moment before looking out the window. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, and he might’ve been looking at her a little too long. His eyes darted to a lone figure shuffling through the snow. It was hard to make out anything specific due to just how much snow was falling, but the figure slowly moved into the orangey glow of the street light. Its arm was bent at an awkward ankle, and there was a dark trail of what he figured to be blood, staining the snow behind it as it walked. He looked back to Abby, trying not to grimace. “Wouldn’t the basics be the same though? Like how to stop bleeding, or patch up a wound?” He asked, forcing himself to keep his gaze on her and not on the thing outside. “Dealing with teenagers is a learned skill. If you can keep them entertained, though, you can deal with them easy enough.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, letting the liquid warm him up. “Really? I thought George Clooney did it for just about everyone,” he said with a laugh. “He usually does it for me.”
A soft hum left him as he nodded his head. There were a few exes of his that had almost made him do the same. There was a tiny part of him that wished that he’d stuck it out with some of them longer, though, just so he wouldn’t have had to be alone with the news had hit. “I can’ t- I can’t begin to imagine how much of a prick a person would have to be to do that. He deserved a hell of a lot more than you just fucking up his drum kit.” Maybe it was the fact that he was a teacher that made the thought of it irk him so much. He’d made a lot of stupid choices, but he’d never understood when people would get angry with their significant other for putting more focus into school than into that person at that time. School was important and expensive. It was almost a holy thing - you didn’t fuck with it.
“Getting drunk wouldn’t be as much fun if we kept our filters,” he mused, watching as she shrugged her shoulders. She was cute like that, with the blanket wrapped around her, the mug held firmly in her grasp. “Wondering is one thing. Admitting it is another,” he teased, catching sight of her flushed cheeks. Something flipped in his stomach at the realization that he was the one to make her flush. She’d thought of him naked, probably. He couldn’t help his grin then, the corners of his lips tugging up despite an attempt to tame them. “Oh come on, everyone’s done that,” he whined, holding out his hand for the bottle. “Am I allowed to ask why you had to fake sick or fake an injury to get out of the date? Was he a douche? Or was it a blind date? Or something else?”
September 10th, 2017 at 05:53am