That’s something she hadn’t had in a while.
The word alone is enough to bring the female to a pause, hand coming up to tug on the strap of the backpack laying against her side as a moment of clear indecision crosses her face at the offer. She takes a moment to scan the other woman, to take note of the weatherworn look to her visage – dust beaten fabric, the tinge of pink of a harsh sunburn, the evident signs of exhaustion – all a clear sign she hadn’t had a safe place in a while.
It brings up a twinge of something that now feels so foreign to her; something that tugs at her heartstrings from the pure look of hope she sees in her eyes.
It’d been a while, she’d supposed – that anyone had come through here looking like they’d even had an inkling of it.
Understandable. The end of the world had been – anything but kind. And Jackie had learned to be far more discerning of strangers stumbling upon her asking for kindness and shelter. Sometimes it was a ruse. Sometimes they were rogues. Sometimes… they just weren’t worth the effort.
But – she had a good feeling about this one. She hoped.
“…that’d be nice.” She whispered, voice ever so soft as it echoed towards the other woman across the shattered landscape. Jackie hops down from her vantage point atop the concrete rubble that’s become the only remains of Tokyo, motioning her head backwards as she takes hesitant steps towards the city circle. “Won’t be much of a tag-along though if you look like you’re ready to drop. Come on. I’ve got a safe place this way.”
London wanted to collapse on the ground and hug this woman’s legs, professing her undying loyalty as gratitude. Being by herself amidst the aftermath of chaos had been starting to get to her--it was one thing to hear the voices of the dead so loud it was like a constant buzz, it was another to hear the voice of someone living; clear, crisp, and sensical.
“Th-thank you! Thank you so much.” London gasps, and dares walks up a little closer to her newfound acquaintance, surveying her appearance. She was a charming young woman, at face value-- lithe, short, but alert and watchful.
“What’s your name, miss? I-- I’m London Dalliway. Where’s your safe place?”
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