𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘌𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛

☼

It was a guy. 

A kid, maybe, who she had ran into down the alley. As soon as her rifle was aimed at his face, his hands were thrust into the air, his eyes widening at the clear threat that she indicated. Delaney held her gun steady, eyes scanning him from top to bottom, unsure, "The fuck' you doin' out here?"

He swallowed thickly, hands trembling, mouth sealed shut. He didn't move but he also didn't make a move to answer her question, even as she pointed the weapon at him more forcefully. Her eyes darted behind him, but there was no sign of companions, "Answer me." She snapped and he grit his teeth.

"I need weapons." His eyes lingered on her gun, "I was gonna take out those rotter's...but you beat me to it."

"I won this fair 'n square kid." Delaney groused, nailing him with a harsh glare. "Gonna have to find 'em elsewhere, aint ya." He kept his hands up in the air, even as his expression wilted into something a little more desperate. He looked behind her, and Delaney stupidly looked over her shoulder, having enough forethought to step to the side when the boy barreled toward her. He fumbled on a busted leg, wincing when she snagged him by the collar of his jacket, pressing the cold barrel of her handgun to his temple, "I aint no fool." She hissed by his hear. 

"Please." He strained, "I need those weapons." 

"Boy - " She sighed, brows creasing, "I aint givin' you my guns." She gave him a shove, directing him further in front of her, "Turn 'round." He did, hands back up in the air with a pitifully desperate look back on his face, "You alone?" He bobbed his head up and down, nervous, "What'cha need the guns for, the dead?" 

He didn't nod this time, fidgeting on the spot. "There's bad people out there." 

Delaney's head lolled to the side, "Did you really just say, bad people?" She saw how this kid scowled, and figured he must have been in his mid teens, late teens even. Seventeen or eighteen at most. He was quite tall, very skinny, and not at all enjoying her bantering. She snorted in humor, her eyes locked on him but also making sure to check behind him on the street for any of the dead. She wasn't naïve enough to think that they were safe in the alley. 

"I'm being serious." He roughed out, grumbling. 

"Oh, Well, I am sorry, do continue." Delaney mocked, gesturing with the gun in her hand for him to keep speaking, not caring much. He watched her cautiously for a while, but he instead stepped closer despite the gun trained on him and offered her a hand.

"I'm Noah." There was a smile, a small one but it was visible. Well, that was something. She tilted her head in genuine curiosity, wondering what on earth was wrong with this kid. Shaking hands - she hadn't done that since before the dead had risen. Yet there was something palpably innocent about it and so Delaney lent closer and took his hand into her own. It was warm and soft, like it hadn't seen a day of hard labor in it's life. He was clean too, she noticed. His clothes looked barely worn, cleaner than her. She wondered if he had been holed up somewhere in the city, somewhere in a building with necessities.