Chris paced from one side of her room to the other. 

She still held her hand in some unnatural way that left him concerned, but every attempt Tony made at talking to her about it had been met with a stern look. She did that thing where her jaw clenched. There would be no discussing it any further. She had not stopped pacing since they returned to their room. Her uninjured hand gripped at her waist, itching to hold on to the baton that lay on the bed beside Tony. He confiscated her weapons with a promise to return them once Mercy came downstairs.

A response to Mercy's question had been hard to pull out of Chris. She didn't want to admit how scared she had been, nor how rash. It was Tony who spoke first, explaining that Cat merely wanted to hold him for warmth and perhaps didn't understand normal social conventions. He spoke about that maniac as if he were fascinating. Chris frowned for the duration of Tony's explanation, of course. When she eventually spoke, she simply told Mercy what she thought in the moment, that Cat had killed Tony, and her instincts took over.

Letting Mercy go up to the attic alone took almost all the self-control Chris possessed. She said nothing since having her hand examined and treated with some kind of splint made from a broken stick. She bit her tongue to keep herself from uttering a single word. Knowing most of the other survivors had already left for a fuel run made it all the worse. But a single look from Tony informed her to do nothing. 

So she paced. 

"No, it's not been too long," Tony said when he saw her open her mouth to ask the question. She glared at him and turned around. "You ought to sit down. You're wasting energy walking up and down like that." Only severe logic seemed to get through to her; she sat on the edge of her bed. Tony straightened, pride tipping his chin up. "If we're not leaving, then we need to decide what to do next. The others will bring back fuel, so I'm assuming they don't mean to stay here forever. Or, at least, until we are forced to leave."

Chris tapped her chin with her thumb. "We're still leaving."

"But it's safe here, Chris. We have food, water, and I think we can trust some of these people." She looked at him as if a second head sprouted from his shoulders. "You know it's true. Mercy and her friend are good people. We have a fence, too, it could certainly do with a bit of a fix-up, but you can tend to that. How do you suppose we are going to survive away from here?"

She groaned and rubbed at her temples. He could convince her of anything, she swore sometimes. But she didn't want to believe him, no matter how much sense it made. She didn't feel as safe as he did here, it set her nerves off in all sorts of ways. She stood up. "I'm going for a walk. Need some air." Chris marched from the room too soon for him to say another word, barely keeping herself from running until she was outside.