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For a country that produced one of the world's worst dictators, they sure produced one hell of a gun. The Glock 22 that was currently in Leonard's hands was being held gingerly, all 2.14 lbs of it. He had the misfortune of having to fire this gun off a multiple amount of times. Some bullets were rightfully spent on the undead inhabitants of the world, and other bullets were spent on the... more alive inhabitants of the world. However, spending this much time with the group and staying alive for as long as he did had meant that he had developed quite a strong sense of discipline when it came to using his gun. With bullets being more and more scarce as time went on, ammo became as hot of a commodity as ammunition did. It was rare that they come across actually useful ammunition that his gun could take. As common of a cartridge as it was in the pre-apocalyptic world, .40 S&W was harder to come by than its smaller brethren. 

Leonard sat atop a log, checking his gun and making sure all was fine, at least the best he could do without taking the gun apart. He pulled the slide back, revealing that there was a round in the chamber. If Leonard had to pull the trigger anytime soon, he would've been able to do so almost immediately. But, with that aside, that was as far as he was going to get with his gun. With so many people around, it was almost useless to use. It would've just caused undue noise and ultimately be a nuisance. They had the manpower to get through things with the sheer force of their muscles and wills. At this point, it seemed like the gun was more for [i]other people[/i], instead of measly zombies who seemed to be made of plastic based on how easily everyone seemed to bash their skulls in. Not to say that Leonard hadn't used his retractable baton to bash some heads in either.

Sighing, Leonard placed the gun in his holster, standing up and slinging his bag over his back as he made his way closer to the group. Right now he was within eyesight of some members, but it was better to get closer to everyone else. They had been walking for a pretty long time, and it was pretty easy to tell that the majority of the members of the group were exhausted and needed the rest. Leonard was fine for the most part, he could've kept going for a bit, but he understood having to stop for the time being to let the less physically fit catch their breath. They were safe for the most part right now, so he figured it was okay. The worst case scenario was that a horde came at them right now. Then... they would've had to figure out how they were going to haul ass. But that was a bridge they were going to cross when they got to it. Right now, it was just time to rest, or for Leonard, check up on some other people he had grown familiar with during his tenure with this group. There was still some time to kill, and Leonard wanted to make the most of it.

Violet was someone he had grown to be familiar with over their tenures within the group. It helped that she had the coolest dog he'd ever seen, and that was saying something since he had known many police dogs over their lifetime. But, for whatever reason, he had grown rather fond of Violet and Argos. Not saying that he wanted things to get steamy, that was something he didn't want to think about, especially since the person who held that slot in his heart was more of the... stabby and slashy variant. But, Violet was a nice friend to have and someone nice to talk to, and Argos was a good boy. You could never neglect the fact that Argos was about as good of a boy as they got. He was reliable and trustworthy, more so than other members of the group, especially some ex-criminals here. They might not have said it, but Leonard knew a criminal when he saw one.

Maneuvering his way around some people who were still resting up, he was stepping up behind someone who was already interacting with Violet already. Maybe they wanted a piece of Argos as well? He understood, after all Argos was one of the goodest boys around. It was hard not to play with him. In a way, he had more roles than just being the obligatory group dog. Some people found him as good morale. some people took comfort with his presence and the fact that he was so receptive to the other people in the group, at least he [i]hoped[/i] Argos was receptive to people. Leonard found that Argos was receptive to him, at least, he wasn't sure about other people. Getting closer, he watched a knife be pulled out. On instinct, Leonard put his hand on his holster before realizing the man's intentions, which was just as bad as he witnessed him slit the rabbit's guts and absolutely desecrate its course as he offered its remains to Violet.

What... the fuck? Leonard had to step in before Violet got into a situation he didn't want her to be in. [color=00a2c6][b]"Whoa, whoa! Hey!"[/b][/color] Leonard stepped in, putting his hand up toward... Bubba and looking over at Violet and Argos. [color=00a2c6][b]"Listen, buddy, I don't think Argos would be very receptive to... [i]that.[/i] Haven't you ever had a dog before? They're all used to processed shit. I don't think he would do very well after eating whatever you've got hanging from your hand over there."[/b][/color] Looking at the corpse of the rabbit, he cringed a bit, [color=00a2c6][b]"Also... did you really have to do that in front of them? Not a cool move, my dude. That's some serial killer shit..."[/b][/color]

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Dallas had been hanging out toward the back of the group as they traveled. At some point he just straight up lost track of how far they were going. Did they even know where they were headed? It seemed so aimless and random that there just had to be a discrepancy when it came to what exactly their goal was. Dallas was fine with trucking on, but not as fine with trucking on without a purpose. Were they trying to get somewhere with supplies? Somewhere that could provide them with supplies and get everyone back into shape? It might not have been apparent right now, but at some point supplies were going to run out. It might not have been anytime soon, but it was better to accumulate as many supplies as you could before it got uncomfortably close to becoming empty. But, he wasn't the leader of the group. He was just here so that he wouldn't be the first one eaten if things turned south.

Eventually they rested. Some people immediately sat down and got their bearings, other went off to do things, and other people? Well... they did things that Dallas didn't want to think about. Dallas still had the energy to keep on trucking, but he didn't really know who he could stick to for their resting period. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied, whether it'd be complaining or checking cars for any stray supplies that might've been useful. It was more than likely that most of these cars had been cleaned out. But, if they had gasoline around, they would've been able to get some of these vehicles working and maybe make transport a little easier. There was no telling what was going to be done about the horses and whatnot, but... it wasn't like he had to worry about that anyway. Wasn't like there was enough gas around to get things going anyway.

Wandering toward the front, he found Freddie Jones trying to poke a zombie's head out with his furnace fork thing. That was a weird tool to use, but based on how bloody it was after the encounter, it appeared to be effective. It wasn't going to be something he questioned. Slinging his baseball bat over his shoulder, he then soon went somewhere else to have a group powwow of sorts. Based on what he said, it seemed like there was a Costco nearby -- great, so there was a goal in mind! Costco! Where people could buy shit they didn't need in amounts they didn't need. But, given the context of the situation they were in, it wasn't a bad idea. However, it also wasn't an original idea. He was sure that other people had the same idea.

[color=a0522d][b]"How are we so sure there's fuc- I mean freaking stuff in there?"[/b][/color] Dallas put his bat down, dragging it against the ground, [color=a0522d][b]"I don't think we'd be the first ones there."[/b][/color]