[As much as she wants to open the door as soon as she hears sounds in the hall, Ryder makes herself be quiet, both hands coming to hold her nose and mouth closed. If it wasn't him, then she couldn't be here. Undead or survivor changed why it would be such a disastrous idea, but either would be more trouble than she could take right now. So she listens, lungs aching from being forced to hold breathe when they just wanted to sob or vomit until she could stop feeling like this, until the rasp makes words and she doesn't feel like an idiot for thinking it sounded familiar.

Her haste to get the door open causes her make more noise than usual, even when compared to her most eager welcome. He's there, and that meant it was safe. That meant he was safe. She knows this better than she knows her own face, if not the stark white pages she pushed imagination on instead of ink, and yet she feels the overwhelming need to see him to be sure. That's her emotional support spooky godfather.]

Teo --

[It's all she can do to keep herself from launching at him. In the end, the bit of distance they had maintained for their mutual comfort stops her better than any burning in her face or dislike of people could, though it could just as easily be seen as the gore he's splattered with putting a stop to her. To her own surprise, she notices it. Maybe it's because she's trying to see if any of it is his.]

You're -- [A shudders, gasped inhale interrupts her. That slim bit of composure she'd been holding onto has decided to take its leave now, and she can feel gross, hot tears on her face. Her eyes had probably already looked glassy, red, and swollen. Oh well. Round two.

The salt of her tears sting her palms as she tries to wipe them away enough that, somehow, speaking got easier. It doesn't work like that, but the effort she makes is still enough that she can croak out, choppily as it may be,] I th-thought maybe -- I couldn't -- We -- We have to leave. I'm -- sorry. They'll come back. Everything you did for m-me -- But we c-can't --