December 25th, 1952, Late Evening

[eventhesmallest]

[A zombie attack on Christmas, how delightful. Frodo had already been in a bit of a funk about the fact that this is the second Yule (for him, as it was early spring in his world when he left) that he's spent away from home. And now this

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[turian_honor]

[On his way out, rifle slung onto his back, wearing more layers than a normal person should.]

Just stay indoors, and you'll be fine. I think.

[eventhesmallest]

[He'll blink in surprise and then - yes, that's a genuinely concerned face.]

You're...going out?

[turian_honor]

I have to. I'm an officer... apparently.

[He shrugs, still headed for the door.]

[eventhesmallest]

Ah, is it...safe? [Yes, stupid question, Frodo's prone to them when anxious.]

[turian_honor]

Probably not. I guess I'll find out.

[He glances back.] Just keep inside, barricade yourself in.

[eventhesmallest]

Ah, of course. Do...do be careful.

[turian_honor]

It's all right. I've had worse odds than this.

[eventhesmallest]

...really? [He can hardly believe it, but...] Ah, you will...nevertheless show caution?

[turian_honor]

Really. Suicide missions have a habit of making everything else look easy.

[He nods.] Yeah, I'd rather not get myself killed.

[eventhesmallest]

I...would rather you didn't either.

[turian_honor]

Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it.

[eventhesmallest]

Then good fortune go with you.

[turian_honor]

You too.