trans_9 | From Dusk Till Dawn...

"It's my body though!" he whines. "I mean I know you're excited to be so close to it and everything but respect it!"

"Okay, first of all? I'm not excited to be close to it. You're one of the last people I want to be this close to. Second? Stop whining. It's not like this is permanent."

"Sure, whatever. And it'd better not be," he replies. "I am not carrying you around on my shoulder like a body-snatching parrot from hell for the rest of forever, got me?"

"Trust me, that's one thing I plan on avoiding. We do this, we find a terminal, and then we're done."

"Got that right. Unless you connive your way into my suit again."

He's figured out such implications annoy her. And he just can't help himself once he's found out what annoys people.

"I'm only doing that if I have to. This is an emergency thing," she snaps back.

This helps keep his mind off the ravening dead horde outside. He might get whacked for it if he pushes too far, but right now having somebody to bicker pointlessly with his helping him get a grip on his panic. He hates it down here. He can hear the zombies, see them through the window as he's shooting, catch traces of their smell through the cigarette-smoke-tainted filters in his helmet.

"Suuuuure," he says, dragging the syllable out in amusement. "I totally believe you. Totally."

Tex, meanwhile, just glowers as best she can. It's in the body language, really.

"Grif? Remember what I said about shutting up, killing zombies, and how that keeps you from getting possessed again?"

"Nobody ever said I had to not talk while I was killing things!"

"So I'm saying it now."

"Who died and put you in charge?"

"I don't think I can be blamed for you needing to be yelled into doing crap."

"I don't need to be yelled at to do crap! I was doing crap on the roof BEFORE you decided to piggyback. It was important crap, too!" He punctuates this sentence by smacking an overzealous zombie arm off with his rifle.

"Right now what you're doing is crap that'll get you eaten. Get away from that window, and get some distance!"

"You're the one who PUT me by the window!"

But he's all too glad to move back, notice.

"I didn't say you had to get that close!"

"YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STOLE MY LEGS!"

"I gave control back to you!"

"..."

"I'm going back where Leon said to wait."

Yep, getting AWAY from the window now. Grif hates the window. It has zombies on the other side. Zombies suck.

"Oay, so now what?" Tex asks once they're back in the original spot. "Stand here and just watch everybody else fight?"

"It's what I usually do," Grif replies with a shrug. He actually has a practical concern in the form of ammunition, but... why bring that up?

Because it's relevant, Grif! And Tex just considered it herself. "How're you doing on ammo?"

"Ummm..." Grif looks down at his stock of clips. It's not very full right now. He has three.

"That depends on your definition of "how" and "doing". And maybe "are"."

Tex joins Grif in looking down, and lets out a disgusted sigh. "Great. We need to get more. I don't trust you to make a head shot every time."

"Thanks for the lack of confidence there."

But he agrees.

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