[b]Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows[/b]
[b]a few minutes ago...[/b]

"Miss Ada, I'm 54 years old. I can assure you my sex drive died out years ago..." Clayton said, bending down to shower himself in filth and bowels, answering her question of whether or not he wanted her to do it for him "...besides...you're not my type." She gave a dry laugh at this, more of a smirk and a snort than anything, opening her mouth with her face covered in blood and what might very well be feces was never a good idea, even if it didn't seem to give you the sickness.

Her body language probably told him all he needed to know when she mentioned people trying to [i]'use'[/i] her... He got what she meant, and gave his reassurance to her that she didn't have that kind of thing to fear from him. Maybe it was some naivete surviving from before the End, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but something in her felt inclined to believe him. Ada had no idea the type of person that Clayton was, the two had just met, in front of an abandoned Gas n' Gulp on a starry Texan night, she didn't know what he'd done to survive and what he'd do to her if she threatened his, but she felt he wasn't a bad person-- she knew he wasn't [i]that kind[/i] of person. Despite the muck that coated her face, the sickening smell coming off of both of them, and the low light that would prevent Clayton from even noticing the details on her face, she found herself smiling, it was a small one, and it only lasted a moment, but she smiled.

Ada tilted her head and watched as Clayton methodically went about covering himself in the gore and shit of the sick. She noted that he was tougher than her. Despite just being introduced to the concept, he already seemed to know which areas to cover and had no... [i]digestive[/i]... qualms about any of it. It took Ada months to get over the smell, having thrown up her first, second, third... [i]quite a few times[/i] while practicing this method of avoiding the sickos. Clayton, on the other hand, trusted her and just did it. He did it without vomiting or flinching, the man either hadn't had a very big lunch, or was simply used to this kind of thing by now, perhaps he had spent time observing them... wherever he had driven in from.

Knowing the world today, both of those were probably true.

Ada leaned against the wall and let the rancid ichor that had once brought the sick back from the dead drip off of her. She had given her jeans a once over with the muck, focusing mostly on her jacket, she was so soaked now though that her shirt underneath was probably fucked. Mostly for her own mental health than to actually clean anything, she rubbed her bloodied hand off on any dry spots she could find on her body, observing Clayton cover his face with the stuff. She had never been one to focus too heavily on her face, preferring to just soak some up in her hair, she didn't quite know why-- maybe she just didn't have the stomach for it. 

As if reading her thoughts, Clayton said, "I'm fine to get my hands dirty. I'd like to meet the man who doesn't in this crazed world." Ex-military? Nah, too comfortable without direction, he was some kind of survivalist though, the gear... willingness to do whatever... maybe he hunted before all of this went down? Ada looked at the sicko Clayton was using, the one she had just cut open. [i]One hunter covering himself in the blood of another.[/i] The irony wasn't lost on her. She knew it didn't matter what he did before, you were who you were now, the now is all that mattered... Still, she couldn't help but wonder things about him, the isolation of her past few weeks had left her with a desire to connect with other people. She wondered what his 'type' was? Crazy woodland widow ladies? Breaking her thoughts, Clayton cut in "I'd like it if you didn't too. You've got a lifetime ahead of ya, even if it is in a world like this."

[i]Concern!? In this world!?[/i] Ada found herself blushing, under the sour blood and despite the darkness, at the thought that someone had her best interest in mind. Bandera was just full of surprises.

Ada noticed as Clayton got up. "Let's take it nice and easy. I'm assuming they're not stupid enough to ignore odd movements." He hesitated at the door for a second, Ada, with a grunt, forced herself to her feet behind him, he turned to her, "Ready?"

She waved her arms around a little, splattering blood and gore around before returning Clayton's gaze, something of a playful smirk on her face, "Bit late for that, ain't it?" She let out a stifled yawn, her face becoming serious as she finished, "Yeah, 'bout as ready as I'll ever be..." She tilted her head at Clayton, her southern drawl permeated her words to the man, "Although... You're down a car, right? Unless you planned on hot wiring another one in the dark... in the middle of all this... maybe we should stick together? For the night, at least-- more power in numbers and all that. I'm sure you already know that alarm'll attract more'n just the sickos."

---
[b]Ada Cinet – Outside Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows[/b]
[b]the present[/b]

Everything's bigger in Texas. That was their slogan, that 6 months that was a lifetime ago, that everything was bigger. Ada hadn't really had time to see if that was true, that lifetime ago, her Mother and she, they had just kinda blown through Texas before, she didn't have family here, so they couldn't crash with anyone. Today though, Texas might not still be a state, but everything was certainly bigger.

Namely, the sick hordes.

Ada trailed behind Clayton, head down, shuffling slowly, and generally letting her eyes dart around, looking for the first sign of the horde ending-- or hostility. She couldn't help but wonder how this many people even lived in Bandera, [i]'bum fuck nowhere,'[/i] Texas. Had they not been evacuated? She bumped into a sicko, keeping Clayton in her sights, it kept moving, but it was reckless nonetheless. Nerves. She hadn't felt anxiety like this in a while, there was no reason for her to, but she did, the horde seemed unending, the stars could only provide so much light, and it'd be difficult to distinguish gunfire from any locals from the blaring alarm and the collective moans of all the sick that surrounded them. She'd work with the variables, but they made her uncomfortable.

Ada knew she couldn't let herself sweat though, they'd sense that. From under her bloodied bangs she focused herself instead on Clayton, the gun he had slung over his shoulder in a similar fashion to her own bag. She wondered how he was getting along? The defacto leader through crowd his car alarm had summoned. Keeping where he was on the back burner, she took note of the rotting faces that were going opposite of them, toward the noise they thought meant 'food.' They were unique, but the blended with each other, all in varying degrees of decomposition, they all seemed gray. They lacked race, religion, opinion... anything, except for a desire to somehow spread whatever it was that drove them. To Ada, to anyone that wasn't already one of [i]them[/i], that manifested itself as a collective hunger for human flesh.

Odd. What it took to completely unite people. A sickness that made them kill other people.

Some of them seemed to glance at the duo with their maggot filled hollow eyes, most just passed them, limping on legs with rotted skin. Like many people, the rise of the sick and the End of society brought most of Ada's beliefs in question. People too weak to resolve those crises of faith usually ended up becoming sick, others were just physically weak... or emotionally weak... or plain just unlucky, some people all of those things. Ada had resolved what she needed to to not end up like the sick... like the faces that passed her without a second glance as the pair made their way through the horde, unscathed. But one thing still bothered Ada and she was forced to think of it every time she looked at one of those sick fuckers with their slack jawed, unfeeling, faces.

Evil.

Were they some force of nature? Or were they evil incarnate? Something that consumed without purpose, without goal or need or, in some cases, even ability. Wikipedia had told her enough about parasites to last a lifetime from her curious nights before the End, but this sickness was... different. Or was it? Was this just nature being nature, and her placing an arbitrary label on it? 

Did evil even exist?

Ada quickly looked down as blood from her dripping bangs slid past her eye. She caught herself getting philosophical, she shook her head lightly, as if physically ejecting those thoughts from her head in the moment, anything other than focus could get her killed here. That being said, over the slowly fading noise of the alarm and the constant hum of sicko noise it was amazing she could think at all. Ada's focus returned to trailing Clayton, following his steps, she kept her eyes on his pants. The only pair so evenly covered in gore in the crowd. She noticed him increasing his pace and increased her own in kind, shuffling to avoid hitting any sickos. Perhaps they'd finally reached the end?