She grinned, razor sharp and blood red, her teeth like prison bars holding her words caged.

“How about this?” she asked as she pulled her shirt down enough to reveal the ragged scar where his katana had pierced her skin. It had only been the first mark he’d make on her. The first blood shed.

His eyes focused on the scar, widening as he realised who she was, but by then it was too late. She’d taken her gun and the kid was fast – lightning fast – but that split second of distracted, of memory had cost him. She aimed again, blocking the sword with her arm, more blood drawn.

She wouldn’t call herself a very vindictive person, but she couldn’t deny a certain satisfaction at pulling the trigger again, at watching him double over in pain.

“Oh, I know,” she says casually, kicking the katana away from him. “Wasn’t anything personal. This isn’t either, you know, I don’t hate you. I don’t give a single fucking shit about your life.”

She swung her hatchet, hard enough to knock him almost unconscious.

“I – I didn’t! I thought the desk would be able to handle more…” he trailed off, reaching his hand down to help her back up.

She was sprawled amidst broken pieces of wood where the desk had given way under her, naked and indignant. That was definitely not the outcome she was expecting when seconds earlier she’d been biting down his neck, listening to him groan as he dropped her on the desk. Where she’d promptly dropped through.

She slapped his hand away, crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

“Oh! And now you’re calling me heavy! My butt being bruised wasn’t enough, now my ego too?!” she huffed in anger, looking away to hide her amusement at how his face instantly went contrite. He looked way more cuter like that than she could handle right now, she had an ego to protect. “Aish! Some boyfriend you are, really.”

A smile tugged at her lips anyway, and then he stepped forward, slowly sliding his hands down her back to her thighs and lifting her up. She bit down the yelp just in time, wrapping her arms and legs around him, looking at him in surprise for the second time in barely a minute.

He smiled slowly. “Featherlight,” he said, a note of amusement dancing in his voice, and she would accept that as an apology because then he leaned in and kissed her, and being angry seemed an impossibility.

After a while she broke away to level him a look of utmost warning and severity.

“Do. not. drop me again.”

Jihyo scoffed, barely looking up from the way she was roaming around in his backpack.

“For fuck’s sake, kid, I’ve been killing people before your daddy even came close to those two pathetic little thrusts that made you, so stuff that bullshit right back down your pants so you can maybe convince me of having balls, because A: not in a thousand years will you ever make me do anything, and B: all I want is to make sure we survive this mess.”

She rolled her eyes, finding the bottle of whiskey she’d seen him slip in earlier. Really. Make her, that was fucking priceless. The only thing he’d make her was laugh.

She ripped a strip off her shirt and put it in the bottle, quickly lighting it on fire. With a flourish she leaned outside, dropping it on the horde of Infected trying to crawl their way inside, and then swung out the window. There, that should keep that ungrateful little shit safe for a while.

“Well, I guess I’ll be fucking off then,” she said with a grin and hoisted herself up, climbing her way to the rooftop. “Feel free to follow me if you don’t wanna get killed.”

She almost managed to laugh smugly when a few seconds later, she heard him curse and there was a new set of footsteps on the roof.

Yeah.