There can only be one

"Don’t you smoke, where’s your lighter?" An item that was bound to come in vitally handy for more than one purpose, commencing with the illumination of the sewage vaults they were about to infiltrate. Speaking of which, it was only a few yards further when Tieria felt the heel of his boot echo back with a metallic clink, instead of stone. He looked down, badgering at the opening with his foot to loosen the iron cap from its wedge in the path.

"Found it, help me lift it…"

Having to assist would mean he'd have to forsake the flame that illuminated the path. With a slight oral puff, he blew out the flame, returning it to his pocket, getting into position to move iron obstructing their path.

Nodding in affirmation, he ventured a few strides into the more precariously open range of the City. Eyes peels in detection of any movement that were all too dangerously secreted under the emanating obscurity. His bearings around the Ghetto were nowhere near as fluid as for the other sectors, but if memory served, they had passed a manhole cover on their way in. Reversing on their initial tracks would logically lead them back to the desired point.

Sweeping a final vigilant gaze across eerily immobile surroundings, Tieria signalled safe passage to his partner.

He maintained the hushed tone, attempting to emulate his partner's professionalism to some degree at least.

"So far so good."

Good, and adjective used very loosely in this situation, however despite the less than perfect conditions, the pair was at least safe. Such was at least something to be thankful for. Lyle regathered his composure, with a deep breath, turning toward Tieria as he began to pat himself down for some sort of light source.

Tieria had no intention of perishing in the outbreak, but he would do all that he could to salvage as many indefensible bystanders as possible from the creatures. Should that lead to a temporary cease of his life then, so bet it. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Lockon wasn't exactly sure how to read the Innovade, his sarcasm, and overall condescending tone typically sounded normal to the Meister, whom in all honesty grew accustomed to it... even expecting it most times, yet it seemed abscent in Tieria's tone. He was sure any questions would be promptly dismissed, accompanied by a subtle insult, or a scolding about how time was of the essence, so he opted to simply drop the topic where it was. Whatever the case, Lockon was sure of the sincerity of his own words, above all else, holding the gravity of Tieria, and the other survivor's lives within his trigger finger. A burden he had no intention of disregarding during this mission.

"Lead the way, oh captain." He responded, with his typical light hearted facade, accompanied with a gentle pat on the back, shortly afterward, he turned to face the rear, maintaining watch of TIeria's blind spot, understanding that clumsy though they may be, the undead were certainly something to watch out for.

"Do you really need my opinion on your hygiene plans?” People were either dead or on the verge of peril, forgive him for not caring about your post apocalypse endeavours.