[He doesn't stay to listen for reactions. While it's tempting, that little bit of old humanity in the giving of gifts calling to him, there's no telling what actual reactions will be. It would be unwise and probably a bit too weird. Then again, it's the apocalypse. Who isn't weird now? He, most of all.
But he notices, from his hideout, that she follows his advice. She grabs a map-- something that garners a wheezing laugh from him-- and she heads out. He checks the hideout on one last look around the area, just to be sure there isn't anything left that might be worth taking before he goes his own way. He knows that anyone living this long wouldn't be foolish enough to leave things behind, but she leaves one thing that he'd have never looked for, and in truth, appreciates the most. A thanks. A smile. He feels one spread upon his face. He decides it's worth trailing after her a little farther.
He finds her camp later. She's got line around it which he can see despite the dark, but in some ways the better nightvision was useless to the other dead, their brains too rotted out for them to be able to utilize the singular gift in any real way. He slips around it and spies the map, wondering if he might spot a destination there. Instead, he gets words, and his covered mouth twitches.
With a quick glance to be sure she's not secretly awake and watching, he replies, answers beside each question and statement.]
Yes. Is that okay? You're welcome. No. It's not like that.
[One could argue that he is creepy, but it's not the kind she means.]
Yes. But they don't like me.
[He pauses, then takes another moment to draw the tiniest of cat faces. That's enough wasting time. He needs to hunt. He leaves the place as it was, save for the smallest replies.]
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But he notices, from his hideout, that she follows his advice. She grabs a map-- something that garners a wheezing laugh from him-- and she heads out. He checks the hideout on one last look around the area, just to be sure there isn't anything left that might be worth taking before he goes his own way. He knows that anyone living this long wouldn't be foolish enough to leave things behind, but she leaves one thing that he'd have never looked for, and in truth, appreciates the most. A thanks. A smile. He feels one spread upon his face. He decides it's worth trailing after her a little farther.
He finds her camp later. She's got line around it which he can see despite the dark, but in some ways the better nightvision was useless to the other dead, their brains too rotted out for them to be able to utilize the singular gift in any real way. He slips around it and spies the map, wondering if he might spot a destination there. Instead, he gets words, and his covered mouth twitches.
With a quick glance to be sure she's not secretly awake and watching, he replies, answers beside each question and statement.]
Yes. Is that okay?
You're welcome.
No.
It's not like that.
[One could argue that he is creepy, but it's not the kind she means.]
Yes. But they don't like me.
[He pauses, then takes another moment to draw the tiniest of cat faces. That's enough wasting time. He needs to hunt. He leaves the place as it was, save for the smallest replies.]