There's that blue and green striped house again, minding its own business, never asking for any of the things that have been happening to it lately
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Pietro is blurring his way around town; he still hasn't found Wanda's idiot boyfriend (this is not actually a reflection of Adam's intelligence, really, just...Pietro's thinking) and has no idea that by this point he's already been rescued by the vagina calvary.
Also, he keeps being distracted by people who need help. It is an indisputable fact that Pietro is an arrogant dickhead, but it is also indisputable that the way he was raised and Wanda's influence mean more often than not he'll assist someone in trouble, if only because it's usually effortless for him.
As such, he does his stop-on-way-less-than-a-dime move in front of the house formerly known as Not Zombie'd and listens, carefully. Superhearing is not one of his skills.
Nor is particularly loud shouting, except that he's a 19 year old boy, and was raised in a culture where the menfolks are boisterous as all get out. Thus, he has some lungs on him. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls back.
The screaming cuts out. That might be just a little alarming, if that wasn't followed by a small window tucked under the roof smashing out, followed by someone who...
...well, all right, she has blood smeared on her face, she's a nasty greyish color, and she's coughing like a gun going off, but she isn't a zombie. Really - or yet, depending. If she were calling back, she could prove that.
But she isn't. She's just staring. Bright girl, this one.
Pietro tilts his head, craning his neck to look up at her. "If you are alive perhaps you will say something."
Something INTERESTING. Maybe quote an obscure French philosopher, come up with the mathematical formula for chicken soup....you know, the usual.
Meanwhile, one of the less dead than usual folk milling about in the yard has noticed the tall boy on the sidewalk. It sprints grotesquely across the lawn, shrieking up to Pietro, who absently punches it in the face, or...through the face. Uh. Goodbye, skull. SEE ADAM, YOU'RE REALLY LUCKY. "I do not have all day to stand here."
Really...the sleeve of his jacket is covered in gore. He has to find a dry-cleaner's.
Madeline whips her head back in surprise when he punches through a skull he can't do that no one can do that no -
This small, swelling surge of disbelief is cut off when she drives the back of her neck into a shard of glass left in the windowframe and screams again, jerking forward and coming closer than she'd ever want to know to slitting her own stupid throat and saving the zombies the trouble of killing her.
She catches herself, barely, hand grabbing the windowsill, and puts her other on her neck to try to stop the bleeding. It doesn't help.
"Ah - ah, fuck," she shouts, hoarsely, "Fuck! WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!" This last is directed at the zombies on the lawn, those not headed for Pietro, who are howling again.
Comments 18
Also, he keeps being distracted by people who need help. It is an indisputable fact that Pietro is an arrogant dickhead, but it is also indisputable that the way he was raised and Wanda's influence mean more often than not he'll assist someone in trouble, if only because it's usually effortless for him.
As such, he does his stop-on-way-less-than-a-dime move in front of the house formerly known as Not Zombie'd and listens, carefully. Superhearing is not one of his skills.
Nor is particularly loud shouting, except that he's a 19 year old boy, and was raised in a culture where the menfolks are boisterous as all get out. Thus, he has some lungs on him. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls back.
Reply
...well, all right, she has blood smeared on her face, she's a nasty greyish color, and she's coughing like a gun going off, but she isn't a zombie. Really - or yet, depending. If she were calling back, she could prove that.
But she isn't. She's just staring. Bright girl, this one.
Reply
Something INTERESTING. Maybe quote an obscure French philosopher, come up with the mathematical formula for chicken soup....you know, the usual.
Meanwhile, one of the less dead than usual folk milling about in the yard has noticed the tall boy on the sidewalk. It sprints grotesquely across the lawn, shrieking up to Pietro, who absently punches it in the face, or...through the face. Uh. Goodbye, skull. SEE ADAM, YOU'RE REALLY LUCKY. "I do not have all day to stand here."
Really...the sleeve of his jacket is covered in gore. He has to find a dry-cleaner's.
Reply
This small, swelling surge of disbelief is cut off when she drives the back of her neck into a shard of glass left in the windowframe and screams again, jerking forward and coming closer than she'd ever want to know to slitting her own stupid throat and saving the zombies the trouble of killing her.
She catches herself, barely, hand grabbing the windowsill, and puts her other on her neck to try to stop the bleeding. It doesn't help.
"Ah - ah, fuck," she shouts, hoarsely, "Fuck! WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!" This last is directed at the zombies on the lawn, those not headed for Pietro, who are howling again.
Reply
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