Slamming the glass down after downing his second shot he got up moving the chair backwards, tipping it over. Better not to get wasted else he become easy prey to these cannibalistic attacks. He already had a gun under his jacket but should he tell them? Him having a gun would either put him in front shooting everything down, clearing a way for the others or be knocked down with someone stealing the gun from him. It's like having the only piece of bread in a village full of starving people. He had to decide if he trusted them enough to use it freely or just keep it on him in case of emergencies. I mean, it was the literal apocalypse for all everyone knew, if you couldn't trust your fellow living, who could you trust? 

Only himself. He decided to keep the gun hidden and only use it if it was the last option. That is until everyone got an actual gun of their own. Paranoia in these daring times could lead to a premature death...

The bar was full of people. People which he didn't even bother to look at twice. They were all the same to him, uninfected. He would get a closer look at their true self in the face of danger. Everyone showed their true colors while in danger of imminent death.

Leaving for the door he turned to everyone:[color=708090]"Ready to go?"[/color]