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Hey handsome. Looks like I'll be your warden for the next month. You in any state to meet up in person?
[He knows it's debatable, between what Maggie's told him and knowing he's a potential vector, but it needs asking.]
[He knows it's debatable, between what Maggie's told him and knowing he's a potential vector, but it needs asking.]
Flatterer.
I don't know, how zombie-proof are you?
[Shaun is a tiny bit irritable. From all the bleeding. And being stuck in the infirmary.]
I don't know, how zombie-proof are you?
[Shaun is a tiny bit irritable. From all the bleeding. And being stuck in the infirmary.]
I'm dating Maggie and didn't turn into a zombie when I got killed a couple months ago, if that helps?
[Which should hopefully speak volumes for his care with Kimberly-Anne.]
[Which should hopefully speak volumes for his care with Kimberly-Anne.]
...Well, I guess you probably won't die if you come to see me.
I'm in the infirmary until this damn flood is over. You can come by, I guess.
[So welcoming.]
I'm in the infirmary until this damn flood is over. You can come by, I guess.
[So welcoming.]
And I thoroughly appreciate the red carpet you're bleeding out for me.
[Two can play the bitch game, buddy.
But still, he strolls into the infirmary looking for the face he's very familiar with thanks to Maggie; his own has a large bruise on one temple, and what looks like a deep scalpel line carved around his face, that goes down his neck and out his extra-short sleeves down to his palms, scything through fractal-like, spider-webbing patterns that wrap around both wrists up to his elbows; and across every inch of skin are small, rounded scars, like buckshot or gouged holes, but unlike every other mark, these have been healed for years now.
And when he spots Shaun's bed, he snags a chair to come spins it around to sit backwards on it with his Inmate, with the casual intimacy of the overly-familiar.]
Pleasure to make your formal acquaintance, Shaun.
[Two can play the bitch game, buddy.
But still, he strolls into the infirmary looking for the face he's very familiar with thanks to Maggie; his own has a large bruise on one temple, and what looks like a deep scalpel line carved around his face, that goes down his neck and out his extra-short sleeves down to his palms, scything through fractal-like, spider-webbing patterns that wrap around both wrists up to his elbows; and across every inch of skin are small, rounded scars, like buckshot or gouged holes, but unlike every other mark, these have been healed for years now.
And when he spots Shaun's bed, he snags a chair to come spins it around to sit backwards on it with his Inmate, with the casual intimacy of the overly-familiar.]
Pleasure to make your formal acquaintance, Shaun.
[Shaun, meanwhile, is bandaged on the back of his head, but all it's doing is keeping the blood from going anywhere, because he is definitely still bleeding. He's uncomfortable and irritable after days of nonstop bleeding and being stuck in the infirmary. That will not stop him from commenting on Tim's appearance, though.]
Same.
You look like hell.
Same.
You look like hell.
Has the pot looked in the mirror recently before he started taking cracks at the kettle?
[It'll be a fun surprise for Shaun later when the worm scars don't disappear.]
I'm sure you've heard that talking about the wound is going to make the bleeding lay off, right?
[It'll be a fun surprise for Shaun later when the worm scars don't disappear.]
I'm sure you've heard that talking about the wound is going to make the bleeding lay off, right?
[He snorts.]
Yeah. I've heard. I'd rather wait it out, though. How long can it last, anyway?
Yeah. I've heard. I'd rather wait it out, though. How long can it last, anyway?
The entire rest of this week.
[There's a dry affect to his tone, but his expression isn't kidding.]
So it's probably in your best interest to at least pretend you care about not dying.
[There's a dry affect to his tone, but his expression isn't kidding.]
So it's probably in your best interest to at least pretend you care about not dying.
[That would be a change.]
Dead people don't get to talk shit.
[He turns his attention back to Tim.]
I thought death wasn't permanent here.
Dead people don't get to talk shit.
[He turns his attention back to Tim.]
I thought death wasn't permanent here.
True. But you still feel like you've got the world's most rank hangover for the week after you recover from it.
[He makes a face. He's not much of a drinker in general, but he knows what a hangover feels like.]
So--what. If I tell you I'm bleeding, it will stop? I'm bleeding.
[Is someone being deliberately obtuse about the nature of this flood? Yes. Yes, he is.]
So--what. If I tell you I'm bleeding, it will stop? I'm bleeding.
[Is someone being deliberately obtuse about the nature of this flood? Yes. Yes, he is.]
Hey kid. What's cooking? How about a meet and greet?
You know. The usual. Where do you want to meet?
Depends. You want to be lazy? I'll come to you. You want a drink? I'll meet you in the lounge? You want true neutral? Let's hit the deck.
How about the lounge? I could use a coke.
Sure thing, kid. I'll meet you there and let you in.
What's a coke?
What's a coke?
Carbonated sugar water that can take the rust off a battleship. Can't recommend it, honestly.
[But he makes his way to the lounge, because disgusting or not, someone needs a coke, and he's got a warden to meet.]
[But he makes his way to the lounge, because disgusting or not, someone needs a coke, and he's got a warden to meet.]
Oh damn, then you need to try some Nukacola.
I have one. I'll bring it.
[And he's there, leaning against the door for him, in his breeches and signature red coat.]
I have one. I'll bring it.
[And he's there, leaning against the door for him, in his breeches and signature red coat.]
[Shaun stops dead in his tracks, well away from Hancock.]
Jesus fuck.
Jesus fuck.
[Hancock chuckles.]
Yeah, I get that a lot. It's the hat, right?
Yeah, I get that a lot. It's the hat, right?
[That surprises a laugh out of Shaun--something he would absolutely not have imagined when faced with a talking zombie.]
Yeah, that's it.
So I'm sure you get this a lot, but... what the hell?
Yeah, that's it.
So I'm sure you get this a lot, but... what the hell?
[He holds out a glass bottle. The dark liquid is very soda-like.]
Nukacola, like I promised.
And I'm a ghoul. Radiation exposure or, in my case, a really great experimental drug.
Nukacola, like I promised.
And I'm a ghoul. Radiation exposure or, in my case, a really great experimental drug.
[Shaun is visibly wary as he approaches to take the bottle.]
I think you and I probably have different definitions of the word 'great.' Why's it called 'nukacola?' Is that like, a brand name or something? [He inspects the bottle curiously.]
I think you and I probably have different definitions of the word 'great.' Why's it called 'nukacola?' Is that like, a brand name or something? [He inspects the bottle curiously.]
Just the brand name, kid. [He gestures to the Lounge.]
Ho on in and we can talk more, huh?
Ho on in and we can talk more, huh?
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