(Untitled)

[bitingcynicism]

[Tonight, emerging from deep in the cornfields, there is a young man. A young man who has been liberally splashed in zombie blood and other ichor and whose eyes glow a flickering red. At his side, is a smoking gun, which he's proceeding to reload, even as his eyes scan the rows of corn for more targets. He also looks completely exhausted to the

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[criticalbit]

[stopping.]

. . . ah . . .

[bitingcynicism]

[... And there goes another bullet to the ground.]

[criticalbit]

[Not coming any closer for now.]

Zero.

[bitingcynicism]

[Picking that one up very slowly and almost losing it again.]

What do you want? This isn't your problem.

[criticalbit]

Is this what you do when you patrol? Kill until you're past your limit?

[bitingcynicism]

What does it matter to you?

[criticalbit]

[. . .]

You're attracting a crowd. And your eyes . . .

[bitingcynicism]

I can get rid of the crowd.

[criticalbit]

And the hunger?

[bitingcynicism]

[Turns away as calmly as he can, but there is still strain in his voice.]

I've dealt with it before. My hunger isn't something you need to worry about.

[criticalbit]

Just--give it a rest for a while, okay? I've never seen you this unsteady with Bloody Rose.

[bitingcynicism]

[Holds up gun and fires at stray zombie that is crawling on the ground just behind her.]

... I can handle my weapon.

[Although the panting in his breath is now much more evident.]

[criticalbit]

[flinches]

. . . maybe it's not my place, or my problem, and I'm just being a nuisance. That doesn't . . . it doesn't matter to me. I'm not going anywhere.

[bitingcynicism]

. . .

[Stares at much harder, the red sheen in his eyes almost flaring.]

[criticalbit]

[moves to close the gap between them]

[bitingcynicism]

[Tenses, almost growling.]

What are you doing?