❝ I’d rather not test if Synth’s are lightning proof. ❞
His nearest arm wraps around her waist without a care that he may getting her own clothes wet, but its already too late for that – it’s pouring cats and dogs. Keeping in step with her, they walk in unison to what was once a little cafe from what can be read of the broken sign. Each step is met with a squelch of mud under their feet, && at the B O O M of thunder, Nick picks up their pace with a small chuckle.
After the scurry in, the synth quickly sets to work kicking stuff away to make room for a make-shift fire – leaving Nora to scrounge up anything dry to light up.
❝ I think I found some abandoned clothes – look a bit tattered. Here, you can dry off with them. ❞ He speaks up above the rain just as thunder hits outside && flashes over his worn, gray form. Lifting the flannel shirt and tan jeans up, Nick hands them over, then realizes his own clothes would do better hanging up to dry && begins to pull off his coat to hang at the most over the bar counter.
She would have thought otherwise by the way he had just been standing there in the rain like that while she was trying to get his attention. Though she probably knew the actual reason. He did that sort of thing when a memory had taken hold. The two of them once got separated in a firefight once because of that.
The crack of thunder that sounded like it ripped through the dark skies right above their heads had made her move more against his side with a girlish yelp. Storms where always amazing to watch roll in, but she never did like being in the middle them.
When they were finally out of the rain (and nigh too quickly, her teeth had started to chatter), Nora tossed the soggy newspaper to the floor and left his side to see if the chairs around some of the table were wooden. Thankfully they were, and she brought some of them over to the spot Nick had cleared of debris. Setting them down, she reached out to take the cloths from him. It was clear at a glance they dirty and threadbare, but anything to mop up some of the water from her clothes was better than getting hypothermia.
Another crack of lightning, another roar of thunder, another squeak from Nora.
While she did try to shake off some of their dirt and dust, Nora started with her legs and began patting herself with the jeans. If worse came to worse, she could wear the shirt, but the jeans were far too big. “You okay over there, Nicky? I'm worried about all that water messing something up.”
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