Yes, yes, he really is going to argue semantics, because, sometimes, talking is the best weapon that you have. Right now, it's the clear winner, as he's chatting with the zombie rather than being attacked. Which Tim knows that he would be, if he tried to use the knife.
"Howard?" The zombie knows another tribute's name and is his... friend? Guard dog? Tim wracks his brain to try to remember if Solomon Grundy's ever had anything resembling an ally. It's hard to visualize; he's usually so busy yelling "GRUNDY KILL!" and hurling large objects.
"I met Howard. He's - we're good," Tim hurriedly corrects himself. He does not mention where he met the other teen or how horrible maimed he is.
Bite marks.Human bite marks. Is this who ripped Howard up? How can it be anyone else, Tim notes grimly. He should see how far he can get the zombie to follow him, away from known potential victims. "I gave him my word that I won't hurt him. If this is his place, I'll keep out. Then we're good, too, right?"
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"Howard?" The zombie knows another tribute's name and is his... friend? Guard dog? Tim wracks his brain to try to remember if Solomon Grundy's ever had anything resembling an ally. It's hard to visualize; he's usually so busy yelling "GRUNDY KILL!" and hurling large objects.
"I met Howard. He's - we're good," Tim hurriedly corrects himself. He does not mention where he met the other teen or how horrible maimed he is.
Bite marks. Human bite marks. Is this who ripped Howard up? How can it be anyone else, Tim notes grimly. He should see how far he can get the zombie to follow him, away from known potential victims. "I gave him my word that I won't hurt him. If this is his place, I'll keep out. Then we're good, too, right?"