It was always amusing, how a person could wax poetic about her being a low life, and in their next breath use their precious laws to destroy a man just as terribly as Sam’s ever done. When your spouse cheats on you, takes half your assets in a messy divorce with an uncaring bank taking the other, well, it’s no wonder some people took the comfort of a few lines of coke. It was certainly no wonder when people lashed out like scared, dumb animals; when they reverted to baser instincts as soon as they found out [i]who would know[/i]?

[color=Skyblue]”Heh. Edgey.”[/color] The blonde’s laugh was light and careless, though pitched low and almost under her breath. Any grain of truth to that aside, Sam could care less – and honestly, she was [i]griping[/i]. Collapse of the world should’ve meant there was plenty of cash and shiny, forgotten trinkets in this shitty abandoned mall to fill her duffle bag twice over! Yet here she was, stuck here over twenty-four hours, with only a bronze ring and a couple crumpled bills added to her collection – not that she had much time to look before ending up in this predicament.

She couldn’t even wear the ring, she was allergic to bronze. Where’s the justice in that? Fucking looters.

A low groan filled the air, interrupting Sam’s hypocrisy. She let out a heaving sigh, throwing a hunter-green sleeved arm over her face.

[color=Skyblue]”Are you [i]still[/i] pouting?”[/color] A choking, wet snarl was her answer. [color=Skyblue]”Typical. You always were the type to make me carry every conversation.”[/color] Finally Sam sat up, one khaki clad leg dangling over the sides of the tall, wide, and most importantly [i]sturdy[/i] shelves she had scaled hours ago to the sound of rending flesh. She took her time, rolling her shoulders and stretching high her eight fingers high with popping joints. It was only when she was good and ready did she turn, scooting to the edge of the expansive – and looted - gun case to peer downwards.

[color=Skyblue]”Come on, you can’t still be mad?”[/color] Despite the purposefully low volume of her voice it only served to agitate the ... man ... below Sam. Considering the gloss to his eyes, she doubted it was any sort of recognition to her words. Just whatever these corpsewalkers’ natural reaction was to living, breathing people.

Oh, and Michael was definitely one of them, considering most of his uneaten entrails were in a bloody path behind him, along with one leg. He had such nice legs, too; the half-chewed up look was most certainly a downgrade.

Not that Sam thought she was faring much better. Sleeping up there wasn’t really sleep at all. She had no doubt there were bags under her eyes at the [i]very[/i] least. Still, with a small pack of corpsewalkers blocking the only exit out of the sporting good ‘Champ’s’ store to engage in their little feast, she had little choice but to bunker down in the back of it and be quiet as possible. They were gone now though, aside from their latest addition to the ‘pack’, and all was quiet in Lloyd Center once more. Maybe now Sam could fucking finish picking through the leftovers and get back to her car.

And then it wasn’t so quiet.

In a place as large as Lloyd Center, with nothing to occupy it, sounds carried. Long, loud, like a haunting bell if Sam was feeling particularly poetic. There were little things in the air, a landing too hard, a bump too careless. The corpses, perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, it was a signal that wouldn't be ignored.

[color=Skyblue]”Well Michael, I have to say I’ll miss you. Gonna be pretty lonely on the road by myself – maybe I’ll pick up a hitchhiker!”[/color] Sam laughed that same quiet, whispering laugh again, already gathering up her supplies. Pistol tucked into her waistband, switchblade – clean of her partner’s blood  - put away, rifle strap over her shoulder and duffle bag thrown to the ground. It clinked mildly from the cans of food she had stored away, but most of the sound was muffled by the thousands of dollars of bills. The blonde climbed down after it carefully, hopping the last bit of the way.

The wet scraping of Mike pulling himself forward despite his missing appendage and missing intelligence was not lost on Sam. She just ignored it to pick her bag up over her shoulder, shifting the rifle to her hands. With her things secured the young woman turned to her ex once more, giving a jaunty two fingered salute.

[color=Skyblue]”Thank you for your sacrifice, Mike. You were so brave, and I’ll never forget you.”[/color] A surprisingly gentle smile curled Sam’s lips, words soft and coated in sincerity with practised ease. [color=Skyblue]”I even forgive you for all those things you yelled at me.”[/color] Blowing one last kiss, Samantha Law turned on her heel to trek a wide arc around Oregon’s latest corpsewalker, slipping out the door of Champs’ with cautious steps. Something was stirring, and this time there was no back up plan.