It's Over.

     Xander shook his head in embarrassment, “Oh– um…”

    “Uh, yeah. Right. Well, I think I’m just gonna.. Head on out. Bye, Xan.”

Andrés nodded slowly, “As long as you’re not trying to cut me again, that would be… really helpful, thank you.” If Andrés had to, he would give himself stitches, but he knew it was going to be hard.

“Well I guess you’ll have to wait and see what I decide,” Sutton teases, taking his arm to examine the wound. “Okay, one second.” She roots in her bag until finding her gauze and a small packet of disinfectant. “Honestly it’s not too bad, so I’ll just wipe it off with an alcohol pad and wrap it up so it isn’t exposed to any bad germs or whatever.”

“Look, I don’t want to brag or anything, but I think you’ll find that my butt looks fabulous in absolutely everything. Except stretchy blue shorts. Stretchy blue shorts are not fabulous on anyone at all.”

“Well then, I stand corrected. Hopefully you won’t take offense if I just take your word for it.” Sutton laughs at his final statement, placing her hand on her chest. “I can’t believe you could just stand there and insult me that way, without having ever even witnessed me in blue stretchy shorts.”

          “C’mon,” Topher scoffed at the girl’s advice, though there was no real offense to his tone. “Just ‘cause I’m a stoner doesn’t mean I’m that dumb. I do have a couple of brain cells left to rub together, y’know.” With that, he abruptly climbed into the back of the van, balancing the joint in his lips as he dug around for a moment on the cluttered floor. When he reemerged, it was with a battery-operated radio in hand. He held it up with a smug grin that quickly became obscured in a cloud of smoke as he exhaled. “And speaking of which,” he continued, propping the radio up on the roof where he’d just been sitting, “y’know where I could find any CDs around here? Kinda been playing the three or four I do have to death.” Taking one last drag, he flicked away the smoldering remains of his joint before turning his attention back to the girl at her question. “You mean aside from the satisfaction of knowing I helped save a stranger from scurvy? I’unno.” A lazy shrug only emphasized the sentiment. “A few more minutes of conversation, I guess. But I mean, that’s more than I’ve usually got, so…”

When Callum turns to the latch she was speaking about, he eyed it carefully. It could be something worth looking into, although having to smash the lock open would attract more walkers. It was something to consider, whether or not it was worth it to look. Then again, this could be a way out and if not, whatever was locked up could be of value to them in terms of supplies. Only a moment went by though before she spots a vent and while that was promising, Callum now seemed entirely too intrigued about the latch. It was either a way out or there was something important locked beneath this. “We got two options and both seem decent. I can’t leave this lock. I wanna open it because even if it’s not a basement or something, there might be guns or ammo or weapons in here. We should get that vent set up – ‘He pointed to the vent, looking for a stool or box to stand on so they can get to it. “I have a hammer in my bag that I can bust this lock with but it’ll be loud and attract every damn walker to that door. If it’s a dead end, we’re gonna have to make a quick exit to that vent before we get bombarded. Find a box or something to stand on for us to get to it. We’ll take out the screen blocking the path and then I’ll bust this open.” Callum quickly dropped his bag, grabbing for the hammer he packed whenever he made runs. He sometimes packed too much – he couldn’t deny the pain he felt in his shoulders constantly for all the things he carried – but it was times like these where he thanked his worst case scenario fear. He waited until she prepared them, now eyeing the lock to make sure he hit it right. “Ready?”

“That’s what I was thinking when I ran into you earlier.” Sutton agrees, her gaze shifting between the lock and the vent as he continues on. She nods at his suggestion, turning and quietly shuffling through the barricade by the door until she finds a foot stool and moves it to stand under the vent. She uses it to reach the vent and uncover it. Sitting it on the floor carefully, she stays perched on the stool as he speaks. She hops down from it as she sees him ready himself to bust the lock open, approaching the latch and withdrawing her knife. She nods at his question, moving to stand to the side of him and the latch in the floor.

“I’m trusting you,” She speaks, her voice quiet with embarrassment from the truth to her statement. Well, that and fear of being too loud and blowing the entire plan. “But yes, I’m ready.” After all this, something great better be waiting on the other side of this door. “With the effort that’s been put into this, if there is’t a million Twinkies an a fully stocked arsenal down there, I’ll be very disappointed.”

There was no response from the kitchen, and just like that, Nathan knew he’d fucked up. He peeked out from behind the wall just as the other person rushed out of the kitchen, knife in hand. Nathan reacted without thinking, taking quick steps back to put distance between them. His hand reached into the waistband of his jeans, drawing a pistol which he aimed at her, flicking the safety off. Nathan barely registered anything she said; the knife in her hand posed a more immediate threat than anything she might be saying.

He did catch the bit about not fucking with her, and it made him wonder if she had a group to back her up. They would be here soon, if she did. All the noise in the house would have alerted them to something being wrong. He had to get out of here.

Nathan kept his pistol trained on her as she sheathed her knife and backed away. He had no intentions of shooting; he only aimed it at her to keep her from coming closer. Her words confused him, and it showed in his face. Why wouldn’t she go out to meet her group, and more importantly, why the hell would he stay here for them to find him? The part about her calling in a horde to rip him apart was the only bit that made sense. Nathan understood that. He did it all the time. He could only imagine how much easier it was to do with a group of people involved.

“I’m leaving now,” he said, his gun still pointed at her as he moved to the front door. It would be dangerous out there with the rain, but it sure as hell beat dealing with whatever would go down in this house. 

Sutton sighs as he pulls out a gun, turning away from him and sitting on the remnants of the sofa. She doesn’t fear those who wave weapons around, because the longer it’s trained on her, the longer he’s hesitating to shoot. Why would she fear someone who never pulled the trigger? Besides that, it isn’t as if something big is waiting for her. It’s the apocalypse, and she has no ties. The idea of leaving now, when she has no one left to disappoint, almost seems like an option. She only looks back at him once, resting her head on her hand as she watches him, gaze locked onto his as the pistol stays aimed at her.

“If either of us were planning to hurt the other, wouldn’t someone have done it by now?” She pauses, waving her hand in a passive manner. “But fine. Go ahead and die in the storm. Because you probably will, one way or another. Whether it’s one zombie or a pack of them. Or someone who’ll actually fire their gun.” Sutton gestures to the door with a shrug. “Au revoir.” She may be a bitch, but at least she did try and let him stay. It's his funeral.

Andrés glanced back at her, a little confused, he’d missed half of what she’d said, focused on his arm more than anything else. She seemed to be trying to backpedal, explain that it was an accident. “Better news would be it not catching me at all.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, “But you’re right, that is… good news.”

“Fair enough. Either way, I’m sorry. Is it deep?” She pauses to contemplate continuing to speak. But she hurt him, so she owes him something. “I’ve got a first aid kit. Not much in it, but enough to help you out if you want.”