Nicodemus frowned and dropped everything he was holding. A scream was bad for two things - one, it meant that there were zombies abound that somehow posed a threat, and two, if they didn't pose a threat, they would soon. Noise, noise such as a scream of terror, was all kinds of bad. The area was clear of shamblers in the immediate vicinity, but that didn't mean there weren't more around. They would come, as surely as night followed day.

Crowbar in hand, Nicodemus scanned the area for the horde of attacking zombies . . . then slowly lowered it as he caught sight of the thing that elicited a scream from Jessica.

His face practically screaming disapproval, he said, [color=gray]"Give me back my concern,"[/color] in the most deadpan way possible. And for him, that was [i]very[/i] deadpan. [color=gray]"All this trouble over a single shambler . . . its a wonder how you aren't dead yet."[/color]

Shaking his head, he crouched near the girl, removing her hands from her face, forcing her to look at him dead in the eyes. 

[color=gray]"There is [i]no[/i] going back to normal. Not now, and not even in a few [i]years[/i]. The home you know is gone, the [i]life[/i] you know is gone, replaced by a life with the threat of the guillotine constantly hanging over your head. This is the reality of the situation, whether you accept it or not.

"So now, you have three options: one, stay safe in the fantasy that things will go 'back to normal' and slowly drive yourself insane with an unfulfillable wish, two, accept reality and [i]die[/i] here. Or three, accept the reality, stop crying and [i]get up and walk[/i]. Your choice Jessica."[/color]