Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Pcm979]

"I wouldn't haveta speak." He pointed out. "Jus' sit there. It's important." He said again.

[Caz]

She continued the silent reasoning, then sighed. It was important to him: after all, he'd lost some of his own in the recent events with the horde, as well as others she probably didn't even know about. Melanie folded her arms across her chest and said with resignation:

"Okay. If it's important to you, who am I to keep you? We've all got mourning to do, hm?"

She patted him on the knee.

"Besides, I bet the boy would like to see you there."

[Pcm979]

He smirked a little. "Yeah, he pro'ly would." He agreed. "Thanks for understandin'." He said, stifling a yawn. God, all he could do was eat, sleep, go to the crapper and whine for help. It was like he was two, not twenty-something!

[Caz]

"And you do understand that right after we're done with the services, you're marching your arse right the hell back here, yes?" she said sweetly.

[Pcm979]

"Yes, ma'am." He said meekly. "Right after." 'I'll be good, I swear!' Indeed.

[Caz]

"You know I'm not doing this just to bother you, right?" she asked. "We've all got to look out for each other... and that means keeping you down as much as you hate it, just so you're not running off to get yourself killed mere days later."

[Pcm979]

He nodded. "Don't worry ma'am." He said with a weak grin. "I'm not gonna steal a shotgun 'n' wheel m'self out there t' take 'em on by m'self, like a sick Rambo or somethin'." He chuckled hackingly.

[Caz]

"Yeah," she said dryly. "You've already done that once this week."

[Pcm979]

"Well, it worked." He wheezed defensively. He looked down at his injuries, then back up. "Eh. Sorta."

[Caz]

"Worked... for us," she said with a smirk. "Yeah, we all know, you're the damn hero that saved us all. Between you, Silver, and Gwen, we've got enough material for a bloody documentary."

[Pcm979]

At the mention of the word 'Hero', he did his best to become invisible. At the word 'documentary', he did his best to phase out of existance. He knew she was joking, but still... He'd rather gouge his eye out again.

[Pcm979]

She smiled and put a hand on Punt's shoulder. "Just fucking with you," she said with a smile. That was one thing about Melanie that everyone in the infirmary seemed to notice before anything else: the fact that she was always smiling, despite being surrounded by such things.

"Figured." He said with an amused snort. "Still... Hero." He mused. "Was just doin' my job." He said finally.

"Yeah, well to most people, the job that you and I or anyone of Irregulars does--the big tasks, the organisation, the responsibilities--thats heroic shite. These people in the mall, they're wives, bankers, grocers, teachers... They can't do what we do."

Punt shrugged. He wasn't cut out for being a hero; That was Petro's job. He, Mel, Mike and Sherry and the rest had charisma and all that; Punt didn't. Or at least, he'd never let himself have it.

[Cynical Cat]

Wendigo slipped quietly from the mall. He had more than a few useful items secreted in his fortress. If he was goig to move to Caiger, he would like to hve them with him. And maybe he would be able to kill something on the way.

[Caz]

Before the memorial services, Sherry was milling about just like any other. The only difference was that, for once in her life, she was goddamn nervous over something trivial: public speaking. Sure, she could give instructions on how to raid a meth lab or tear apart a zombie horde or something of the like, but just going up and talking--praying even--was something she had little to no experience with.

Make that no experience at all.

She took a long sip of her flask, still sitting on the steps after Reaper had departed.

[Pcm979]

Mike spotted her from a distance as he left the infirmary, having just made sure that Gwen's infection was receeding and the injection hadn't given her any adverse side effects. He trotted over to her softly and sat down next to her.

"Hey." He said, inspecting her. "Nerves?" He asked, diagnosing her problem as best he could.

[Caz]

"Ayup," Sherry said uncerimoniously. She took another swig.

"Want?" she asked, offering the flask to him. "Scotch."

[Pcm979]

"Thanks, love." He said, pecking her on the cheek and taking a swig. "Ahhh." He exhaled, passing it back. "That's just the ticket in this weather." He shivered as the cold wind gusted in their direction. It was still snowing infrequently.

"Yeah, public speaking." He said after a minute. "I never got the hang of it. But what I found was that no one ever noticed how nervous I was about it." He chuckled. "The mind plays tricks on you."

[Caz]

"It's just... not exactly something I've got much experience in," she said with a chuckle. "And by much I mean 'any at all.'"

She yawned and leaned against him.

"But I guess we've all gotta start sometime."

[Pcm979]

He put an arm over her shoulders, resting his head on hers.

"Just don't stutter or make Freudian slips and you'll have 'em eating out of your hand." He chuckled.

[Caz]

"I never stutter," she said proudly. "Even when I know what I'm saying is utter bullshit. I just wish I didn't have to fake the confidence," she said with a chuckle.

[Pcm979]

He sighed. "Tell me about it." Oh yes, you're going to pull through just fine... It made him feel such a bastard every time he had to say it.

"But tell me," he said lightly, "what, exactly, are you doing out in gale-force winds? You'll catch your death of cold." He hammed up the fussing. "I'll just go and get you a duvet, and a hot water bottle, and a woolly hat..."

[Caz]

"You're so dramatic," Sherry said with a grin, shoving him over a bit. "I swear, it's like watching a theatre troupe sometimes. You're a great bunch of guys."

[Pcm979]

"We're glad you approve." He chuckled, adjusting his glasses with his free hand and looking at her admiringly. He shook his head and smiled happily. "I am one lucky bastard, having you put up with me."

[Pcm979]

"Although here is where I point out that you've put up with far more than I have," she said.

"I'd put up with it again." He said earnestly. "With a smile, if I knew it'd get me here."

"I wouldn't," she said. Blinking a bit, she explained: "Die, that is."

"I can't fault you for that." He agreed, pulling her a bit closer. "But you won't have to, hmm?"

She shrugged. "I can't tell you I won't," she said quietly. "Hell, I can't even promise you I'll try my hardest not to. That's my position now: doing what's best for the mall, not necessarily for me."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." He whispered, their noses touching. "That's why you got the job. It's one of the many reasons I love you."

She smiled. "I know," she said. "And I don't want you to think anything less of me because I didn't want you coming with us," she said.

"No, you're right." He sighed. "If something happened, I'd go after you, damn the consequences. You're better than me like that."

"Only because I was raised myself as an every-man-for-himself bastard," she pointed out.

"You're better than you credit yourself." He chuckled, smoothing her hair back. "I'm the one doing everything for myself here."

"Sometimes that's okay, though," she said with a shrug. "I mean, yeah they tell you selfishness is bad and all, but... What's the point of living if you don't get some enjoyment out of it?"

"Not much." He agreed, sitting back a little, noses a centimetre apart. "I was just saying, though: It's odd, you saying you're an every-man-for-himself bastard when you jumped after Steve, organised this memorial 'n are gonna go out and defend us layabouts staying in here." He poked her in the ribs. "Give yourself more credit, 'kay?" He grinned.

"Well I said I was," she pointed out, "not I is."

"True, true." He admitted. "I'm babbling. Put a sock in my mouth before I make your ears drop off." He shivered a little. "If frostbite doesn't beat me to it."

"It's okay," she said, "long as you're talking, it means I'm not thinking about how I'm gonna talk myself into falling on my ass."

"You could always fill up on Liquid Courage." He joked, tapping the bottle of Scotch. "You'd probably fall on your ass, but you wouldn't care until the next day." A smirk.

"I'm not Petro," she said with a grin.

"For which I am eternally grateful." He said, grinning back.

"Whatever," she said, "I've seen the eyes you make at him behind my back."

"Don't make me bring up you and Mel!" He countered, waving a finger imperiously.

"Which was her idea entirely," she said with a snort.

"So you say." He said, waggling his eyebrows. "But you were so angry with her when she first arrived, I know there must've been sexual tension there."

"Well yeah," Sherry said, moving her hands in an hourglass figure motion. "Wouldn't you?"

"That's a trick question." He said, moving his hands in the same motion over her body. "You know I'm the boring type who only has eyes for you." He paused. "Besides, Petro'd kick my ass."

"He can't kick much ass right now," Sherry pointed out, kissing Mike on the cheek.

"I don't know." He chuckled, nuzzling her. "He could still do a number on his own."

"I'll hold him by the shoulders and you take him from the front," she said maliciously.

"In his dreams." Mike shot back easily.

She raised an eyebrow and didn't say a word.

He raised his eyebrows and waggled them furiously, not breaking eye contact.

"You're perverse," she said.

"Matching you stroke for stroke, m'dear." He chuckled affectionately.

"Mm, after this whole affair, why don't we get to some stroking ourselves?" she muttered.

"That'd be... swell." He whispered, keeping the double entendres coming thick and fast.

"Who cares about the cats," she whispered. "We'll have to get them conditioned to us sometime."

"It'll be educational for them." He murmured.

"Except for the fact that they're cats, darling."

"I never said what it'd be educating them." He pointed out mysteriously, another eyebrow waggle punctuating his words.

"You're definitely an odd one," she said.

"I've been called worse." He said, nodding his head too-seriously. "In fact, someone once splashed out for..." He peered around theatrically, as though making sure nobody was near. He leaned close and whispered: "Incorrigible." He sat back, nodding as though this was of any significance.

Sherry grinned. "Because you deserved it."

"You wound me to the core!" He gasped melodramatically, clutching his chest and rolling his eyes back.

She took the opportunity to lightly tickle at his exposed stomach, sliding her hand beneath the fabric of his shirt without mercy.

He 'eep'ed and sprung forward again, clutching the hand through his shirt. "Coldhand coldhand." He whimpered, giggling incongruously.

"Then behave!" she admonished.

"Yes, dear." He giggled, impulsively leaning forward and kissing her on the tip of her nose.

She smirked and then kissed him on the cheek. "Come on," she said, “looks like things need to be set up. Want to help or at you just going to sit and watch me work my ass off?"

[Josh]

He lit a cigarette, watching the memorial preparations from a distance.

Fuck fuck fuck, no matter what he said or how much he steeled himself for it, this was something he really didn't want to do.

People died, they got buried, and everyone should just move on and not grief-mop around with it, for fuck's sake.

He would've preferred soloing back into downtown coated in barbecue sauce than face up to it.

But...

Job's a job.

He proceeded down the defunct escalator to the gathering crowd.

Alright, let's just get this the fuck over with.