[hr][hr][center][h1][color=DC143C]Dexter Sterling[/color][/h1][/center][hr][hr]
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[quote][right][indent][b]●   Interacting With:[/b] Black James, Richard, Jaime, the two Strangers.
[b]●   Location:[/b] Hoganville, Troup County
[b]●   Time:[/b] Morning-Afternoon
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It wouldn't be the first time Dexter cracked a joke at the wrong time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Although, in his defense, he felt like he was about to have an emotional breakdown over needing that cigarette. [b]"[/b] [color=firebrick][b]Are you serious? Did you not just see what happened? Unless you wanna walk, you gonna shut up about CIGARETTE and sit the fuck down![/b][/color] [b]"[/b] At the corners of his lips was originally the ghost of a smile, but as he met eyes with James it began to quickly deteriorate. Dexter sunk bank into his seat, shoulders slumping as he felt like a scolded child. He glanced sidelong towards Richard, looking for some sort of relief from the awkward position he had put himself in, and in some ways he found it.

Dexter peeled his eyes away from Richard, looking back over James' shoulder in silence. His expression was blank now as he thought to himself. He wanted to apologize, but it wouldn't mean anything – not now. Dexter was just a random person James had only recently met, that was fully disposable and possibly dangerous to him and his friends in Newnan – although he wasn't, you could never really trust a stranger nowadays. He decided it'd be better to properly apologize for what happened, for Alicia's death, at a time when Dexter wasn't a stranger. When his word meant something.

And so he kept his lips together, chewing at the corners uncomfortably as they began to pull around the driveway and head for the street. Dexter held himself close and kept his eyes off the windows as the vehicle rattled and thundered against the cold bodies on the outside. The sound of it was definitely memorable, Dexter reflected as James cleared the horde and broke out into the street at a modest speed.

The radio cackled briefly but Dexter couldn't make out what was being said. James turned and spoke to them, something about some place being hit? Dexter looked between the two, agreeing with Richard reluctantly. [b]”[/b] [color=tomato][b]You think we wanna get left the fuck out here while you guys appear to having working radios and shit? Hell no. Keep drivin’, chocolate thunder. We’re coming with you.[/b][/color] [b]”[/b]

There was a call, an actual call from an actual phone, with an actual person talking on the other end. Dexter was curious but he tried not to show it, opting to turn head and stare out a window aimlessly as he listened. The conversation was short, morbid. The woman who died meant something to someone, whoever it was on the other end. James conveyed that pretty well. Dexter didn't have much time to think over what was being said when it ended, and the Buster began to slow down and careen towards the side of the road.

Another survivor? In a single day? Dexter's luck, or rather that of his group's, was either outrageously fortunate or... The opposite. They were still open to being shot, or stabbed, or worse by any one of these new people. Yes, worse. They could be the fucking scum of the earth and like comic books. Those people were horrible. Books with pictures are for children. Or so Dexter believed.

He tried to pretend that he didn't give a shit about the new people, and instead watched Richard as the guy stuck his head out one of the windows of the cab. [b]”[/b] [color=tomato][b]Run outta gas or somethin’? This fella here just saved our asses from a herd of Deadbrains. He’s a stand-up guy who’s got shit to do and hates to leave anyone behind if he thinks he can help. You all alone out here?[/b][/color] [b]”[/b] Strange. For such a hateful guy, he sure was throwing a lot of admiration and credit towards James. Black James, specifically. Dexter couldn't blame him though, in this world it was a good idea to talk others up. Dexter made sure to do so whenever Richard was especially being a dick.

Then Dexter's train of thought was interrupted as Richard shouldered into him. [b]"[/b] [color=DC143C][b]Hey-..[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] He stopped his initially annoyed response, his eyes lifting up at a strangers face. Up until that point he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed, the scuffle with "Froggy" and "Dick" a mere couple feet away from where he sat – and now some... Lady. A Lady. Not to be confused with Lady A. Was looming over Richard with some sort of weapon, or wasn't, Dexter couldn't really get a good look.

[b]"[/b] [color=f6989d][b]Pardon me boys, this just take a second,[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] Dexter nodded slowly, his eyes glued – slightly glaring, but not quite – to the stranger. He didn't like her, Dexter established. He further justified these thoughts as she spoke more and more. He hated her voice. And her accent.

Dexter never really picked up a heavy "southern" accent himself, which he attributes to his parents and other family.. But there are certain words and phrases he can't help but let sail with a Tennessee-like twang, and it annoyed the shit out of him when he caught himself doing it. Black James on the other hand... Well he was a guy? And his voice was fitting. And... Well, maybe Dexter was a little sexist and had double standards.

He drew his eyes to one of the windows as two thuds from the back came and the Buster began to roll out, much like a ragtag Autobot. Roll out. [i]Roll[/i]. Roll up. Dexter had to resist the urge for asking about that cigarette again, biting down on his tongue to distract himself. He was very out-of-it, tired almost, but he didn't let it show too much.

Instead Dexter forced a slight scowl of sorts, trying to make an expression of determination – and he thumbed the inside of his shirt at his waist, running his hand over the grip of his empty pistol as if he was ready to take on any danger that the group would soon run into. In reality it probably looked like he was constipated or something.
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