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You and your silly euphemisms.
But I'm glad you're happy even if you deactivated the other you.
*fond smiles* Talking to yourself assures that you're keeping good company.
Wondering how long it will be before the end. Takes another sleeping pill and goes back to sleep.
Okay, it is crazy out there, just heard about this place! Hope my outfit is okay for zombie hunting!
That's your opinion, but thank you.
Wait, the end is night? So you believe the madman with the sign?
Wake up, you!
It is my opinion, and you're welcome. *grabs some food off of your plate and pops it in my mouth with a grin*
As long as you're safe. My only concern.
Hi, beautiful! (((hugs))) Wanna snuggle?
You dont havt to tell me, Chain. I know the rules.You're outfit is fine for outside, but inside, we go without. Zombie bites can't be hidden on a naked body. Holsters, shoes, maybe a piece or two of jewelry, but that's it.
Welcome.
You dont havt to tell me, Chain. I know the rules.
* smiles as I strip off my battered and scarred leathers, grubby jeans, still-lacy black panties, and a very faded red bra, the only one I could find that fits.*
Well, I've been out and around, but nowhere I've found is the same as the Bunker. Now someone put a drink in my hand and crank the music loud, because I'm ready for a good time!
Hi Dave. No, no living , though there seem to be less undead now. And yes, I have seen action, thou Ive come out of it mostly unscathed. Nothing you need to worry your adorable head about. I am hungry though. Every fire I lit to cook also attracted the undead, and by the time I had fought them off the food was either burned or knocked over and trampled.I wouldnt say no to a sandwich.I've been wondering where you might be. Are you ok? Did you see any more of the living out there? I'm very happy you're back.
You look like you've seen action. I am very interested in getting you cleaned up and checked out. Full medical examination. Hungry?
Walking back into the yard, covered in gore and chattel, my blade a streaked mess, my eyes still wild, I enter the bunker and head straight for the shower. I clean off, and discard the pants I was wearing - there's no saving them. I tend to the blade, and place it in its holder. I'm going back out, but this time it's going to be loud. I load up: M4 carbine with a dozen magazines, twin Sig P226 pistols with extended mags and plenty of spares, and just in case it gets up close and very personal a Brooklyn Crusher polymer baseball bat. I haven't come CLOSE to satisfying whatever hunger or rage is boiling in me yet. Best to head back out into deadhead land and keep clearing the region of threats.
I exit, having successfully avoided (or been avoided by, my appearance and demeanor couldn't have been pleasant or inviting) everyone. I pause at the edge of the clearing and fire three rounds into the air, then let out a ragged bellow of primal rage. I WANT them to hear me, and to come looking for a meal. They'll meet their final end instead.
*peers over the edge of the roof where I was hiding, watching my dear friend wrestle with his demons...
* slips up behind him and lays a kiss on the back of his neck, wrapping my arms around his chest*Life does go on, doesn't it?
The dead roam the earth, the crops keep growing, we keep living. What's the purpose?
And can we see a reason to keep on? I'm starting to need one. This hell on earth is filled with the damned and such a small group of friends. Where is our heaven?