[She sighs; she can't bring herself to laugh, but she can give a little noise of amusement, a last ditch effort at being lighthearted. Was she ever lighthearted?]
Good. Now get him to the Fireflies.
[Tess puts her hand to Joel's chest tiredly. Her hands are dirty, as usual, but today their coat of usual working grime seems extra thick. There's her own blood, too, from where she'd touched a hand to the wound earlier. Her own blood, her own sweat and her own tears, all for nothing but the last ditch hope that nobody else would die from Infection. Someday, anyway.
Only people on death's doorstep could possibly give a shit about that, in their hopeless world.]
Can we find pills, or something? I'd rather you didn't have to shoot me, Texas.
no subject
Good. Now get him to the Fireflies.
[Tess puts her hand to Joel's chest tiredly. Her hands are dirty, as usual, but today their coat of usual working grime seems extra thick. There's her own blood, too, from where she'd touched a hand to the wound earlier. Her own blood, her own sweat and her own tears, all for nothing but the last ditch hope that nobody else would die from Infection. Someday, anyway.
Only people on death's doorstep could possibly give a shit about that, in their hopeless world.]
Can we find pills, or something? I'd rather you didn't have to shoot me, Texas.