Regret tended to be an emotion Jon avoided like the plague, but as he watched the blabbering brunette in front of him, seemingly falling apart, he vaguely began to ponder if saving him had been the best idea. This guy - kid? - seemed like he’d barely last a few minutes on his own, let alone over a month. “Yeah, those would be referred to as ‘office supplies’ in most states,”
His attention re-focused on his words when he mentioned what exactly he was doing out here, interest piqued. “That your official title? Wherever you’re from?” If anything, he could at least try to pull some informative teeth from the stranger. If there were other people nearby, another group, then it could be vital information for his own band of thieves. Which nixed the possibility of not returning, but, maybe this was happening for the best.
Both the brunette’s warning and the ominous sounding from the approaching walker had him rolling his eyes, hefting the crowbar back into swinging position. “Just stop, okay? You’re gonna shoot your damn eye out,” he grumbled while approaching the undead. Granted this one had him beat in the height department. But a swift duck from it’s swinging arms gave him the perfect angle to take out one of it’s knees, sending it toppling onto it’s back. “And down ya’ go. Makin’ this a helluva lot easier for me, aren'tcha big guy?” The ghost of a grin appeared on his lips before he delivered the finishing blow, hook straight though the eye socket and into the brain.
Whatever 'life’ flowed out of the decaying body, going still as dark crimson began pooling behind it’s head. Sighing through his nose, Jon knelt down beside the body to begin the task of going through it’s pockets, reminding himself to check the other undead as well. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten there was actual living, breathing, non-flesh craving company beside him. Tossing the brunette a glance, he jutted out his chin towards the weapon clutched in his grasp. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
Damien didn’t like to seem weak in front of others, but he had almost died. This guy surely had to understand that, right? He scoffed. Of course this guy would be fairly attractive. “Not those kind of office supplies, alright?” he said, and then he was starting to regret that he had babbled about his position. Great. This was just what he needed, on top of what he had just gone through today. “Look, I’m just trying to find a way to help...somehow,” he said. “Find any other survivors--that kind of thing.”
He scoffed again, but he kept a tight grip onto his bow while he watched the other man take down the walker. He had to glance away when the man struck, making a face to himself. Yuck. Alright, guess this hot guy had absolutely no problem killing these things. Maybe he’d be useful if he was willing to follow him for a bit.
“Ew, that’s...lovely,” Damien couldn’t help mumbling, seeing the blood oozing out. He scrambled to get up from the ground, patting himself down. He got his breathing finally under control, running his hands through his hair as he kept his eyes on the other man.
He glared from the comment. “I’ve been practicing. For a few weeks, maybe? I’m not a huntsman like you, or anything,” he admitted. “I’m barely outside, but I just...I needed to check this place out.”
He paused for a moment, biting his lips. “Why didn’t you just let them kill me?” he asked, his voice rather quiet. “I mean--it could’ve been easy.” He was then grinning a bit, getting some of his spark back as his anxiety was now more at bay. “But I guess I was just too pretty to die, right? I would’ve done the same if I were you.”
