(no subject)

[27_53]

They need to stock up on a few things, eventually.

It is only normal, after all. Even if this is anything but normal, with her here and both of them still having trouble with things that should be normal. He cannot find the bar (he has not really gone looking, not after the other day and how much it drained him to try) and she is nowhere near able to go looking, either.

So they make plans to head to the coastal town a few miles down the road. It will not be a long walk. There will be cigarettes, there. And maybe even lobsters, if they are lucky.

(He hopes they are lucky. The lobsters deserved it.)

He has his coat (as always) and he's gotten the most of the blood out of it. There are a few tears that need mending, still, but they are unimportant.

"We can cut across the field. It is shorter, that way."

Following the roads is for boring people, apparently.

Comments

[27_53]

He is a slower eater (blame the avian tendencies) but he will be ready for another lobster once they are boiled to perfection. It will take some time for the water to heat again, anyway.

"There could be."

He studies the broken bits of shell in front of him, and idly begins to arrange them into a pattern while he eats.

"I have not gone looking."

[katyafeline]

Once the water is set to boil, she goes back to the table to get more vodka, and bumps him with her hip as she does so.

"Well, there are two now."

[27_53]

"Yes."

He grins at that, an honest grin that feels right and natural for the first time since this entire disaster began to unfold however many days ago.

(Two.)

"We are not alone."

He toasts her with his vodka, and then lights another pair of cigarettes.

"And we have all the lobsters."