нєαят'ѕ тσσ вιg fσя уσυя вσɗу

He nearly laughed at her saying that it could have been their family. Their father was probably one of the lunatics out there doing his best to return to the most base human nature imaginable, and their mother- well. Who the HELL really knew, at this point. Max somehow managed to hold his tongue about that; not out of kindness because he had little of that left, but because he didn’t have time for her to weep again. He took a deep, steadying breath, and he didn’t pretend to be reassuring because he knew that wasn’t going to keep them alive. Not to mention he probably wasn’t CAPABLE. “It’ll keep us alive for a little bit longer. Plus it’s the high ground. We can get further into the woods, further away from people. Just keep your eyes on the ground,” he warned. The last thing they needed was for her to get a sprained ankle. 

Penelope hunkered low to the ground; mind racing. She was angry, she didn’t know what to do in this situation. She was capable of defending herself plenty...CHRIST, but she hated guns. Impersonal, loud, grotesque. She had no respect for people who killed with guns. Didn’t they want to get the job done right?! Seething, she looked up just in time to see a dark shape, a twisting, yelling body, go tumbling to the ground from a nearby roof top. Face twisting into an expression not unlike a bulldog that wouldn’t be dissuaded from the stick in it’s mouth, she tilted her head up towards him. “Did you just shoot at him?!” She hissed. Great idea Penelope, yell at someone who could probably shoot you.