There weren't that many elevators back at the airport. He'd been more of an escalator-zombie himself. More to see. And the elevators back in the Capitol had been more for fun, something to pass the time than worry about his destination. Or that at any second, those doors could open to show another Tribute lunging at him, a spear aimed for his guts. His heart is still jittering away in his chest for all it's worth, like it's making up for lost time.
He totally forgot about this part of being alive. R clutches a hand to his heart, feeling it struggling against his chest, his breaths coming in ragged. Is this dying? He's not dying of a heart-attack, is he? R knows he died - and came back - a young man and he'd passed his last physical before they took him here so he's fine. He's okay. He's not dying, he tells himself, because that wouldn't make good TV and because a little peptalk never hurt anyone.
The elevator doors open, he doesn't get stabbed, and R decides that's a good sign. He slides out, his hand trailing along the wall for support. What does he do now? Look for Julie? Howard? Hide? Get armed? What's great at killing zombies is just as good at defending himself against the living, but he's not sure he has it in him to commit cold-blooded murder like that. Before at least it'd been for food, because the new hunger demanded it. Now it's different.
Hans can catch R waffling in front of a glass case of weaponry preserved behind glass cases. His back is turned but he's tall, taller than before when he'd been hunched over.
R || CLOSED TO HANS
He totally forgot about this part of being alive. R clutches a hand to his heart, feeling it struggling against his chest, his breaths coming in ragged. Is this dying? He's not dying of a heart-attack, is he? R knows he died - and came back - a young man and he'd passed his last physical before they took him here so he's fine. He's okay. He's not dying, he tells himself, because that wouldn't make good TV and because a little peptalk never hurt anyone.
The elevator doors open, he doesn't get stabbed, and R decides that's a good sign. He slides out, his hand trailing along the wall for support. What does he do now? Look for Julie? Howard? Hide? Get armed? What's great at killing zombies is just as good at defending himself against the living, but he's not sure he has it in him to commit cold-blooded murder like that. Before at least it'd been for food, because the new hunger demanded it. Now it's different.
Hans can catch R waffling in front of a glass case of weaponry preserved behind glass cases. His back is turned but he's tall, taller than before when he'd been hunched over.