[center][color=#ead2b2][h3]Darlene Kate Revie[/h3][/color][/center]When she spotted Duncan coming towards her she gave him her own small smile as a greeting. She observed him as he went over to the sink, eyes widening as she saw the scar that lay beneath the glove he wore. What... had happened? She couldn't help but glance at his hand a few times even as she began to eat-- rice and the deer stew. She decided to keep off the sushi, letting him have it all to himself. She thought of protesting that she didn't need to shop for more clothes, but in the end just went along with it. 

It was a little funny, how much care he took to make sure the area was safe before leaving her to shop. And the key? Quite ingenious, but she [i]could[/i] pick locks. Not that she said anything, though. The Glock and grenades were quite over the top though, and it began to make her feel like she was being babied. She [i]survived[/i] the Plague, after all. She could take care of herself. Nevertheless, she took it and smiled. Thanked him. Then went to shop.

She got three new full sets of clothes, which actually didn't take her too long. It was quite unlike her, but one of those sets were actually fancy: a skirt and blouse. She was also able to find some of those feminine necessities before she walked back out with two plastic bags of stuff.

For a moment she thought that the flower arrangement was for her, and was prepared to accept them before she saw that he made no move to give them to her. She wasn't sure why he [i]would[/i] give them to her anyway, to be honest. But still, she was confused. Were they for decorating his place back at the base?

The house. The crime tape. The fact that Duncan had a key to enter that wasn't like the one he had borrowed her. She was even more confused, but warily followed him inside. 

The collection of toys. The outlines of people and blood stains that told her that this house had a sad story even before Duncan explained. The way the teddy bears stood guard, an idea that she would have thought only children could come up with. The entire atmosphere of the house...

His story. Gangs. Abandonment. Abuse. Killing people. Though of course Duncan would not have known, it had been a bad idea to introduce Darlene to more death.

Darlene's head began to spin as she began to comprehend his past. It was horrible, and she felt so sorry... except that "sorry" was too weak a word. Tragic. And he still smiled so much. Talked so much. But it was weird, how the brain worked. As Duncan finished his story and suggested seeing the garden, all she could think of was the death that had occurred here. Or rather, more specifically, that [i]he[/i] had killed. Duncan. The person standing in the same room as she was. It didn't even matter that it had been in self defense. It was still a fact.

Well, looks could be deceiving. 

Darlene's heart was thumping in her chest, and she was pretty sure she wasn't seeing properly. Her vision could only zoom in on one thing at a time, the bears, the outline, the blood spots, and Duncan. Her gaze flickered from place to place, searching for words, searching for some way to calm herself down. On the outside, it was very obvious that she was panicking and distraught. 

She hadn't realized it until now, but perhaps she had been hoping that Duncan would turn out to be comparatively "normal". 

Had been hoping that since he had stayed in a cabin during almost all the Plauge, his story wouldn't be so [i]fucked up[/i] as she thought hers was. She had watched her family die, found new friends, and then watched them die along with her last living family member. But he had been abused, he had killed. He wasn't normal. 

[color=#ead2b2][i]He could kill you. Abuse you.[/i][/color] A voice whispered through her head, so unlike her. And that did it. She took steps backward away from him until she hit the counter top behind her, and then clumsily she grasped at the ledge with her left hand for support. If there was anything on the counter top, there was no doubt that she had knocked something off. The other hand? Gripping the pistol tightly, though she left it in the holster. For now.