Gritting his teeth, Lorenzo glowered back into Hayley's dimly lit face, his expression near animalistic with rage.

"Don't you even try and pull that shit on me," he said sharply, tilting his head to glare down his pointed nose at her. "You know as well as I do that you fuckers are the ones that lead the zombies to my front door!" His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, dirty nails digging into his palm and arms shaking with the effort to restrain himself from lashing out at Hayley. His eyes slid to one side, once again finding an indiscriminate point in the distance to focus on before continuing, his voice slightly softer. "It might not have been a fortress, but at least when I did die, I would be in my own home, not on some godforsaken concrete roof like a fucking idiot."

His eyes shifted back to meet hers, which were still maintaining a furious glare that could have born a hole through reinforced steel. Finally noticing their close proximity, he felt a sudden wave of disgust wash over him. "Get the fuck off me!" he shouted, roughly shoving her backwards before storming off to a far corner of the roof.

He stared down into the inky mists far below, his pulse still deafening in his ears. A fall from that height would certainly kill him, and if not, the undead milling around in the streets below would finish him off soon enough. He was slightly taken back to find himself considering the jump. Would be better to die from that, his mind told him, than slowly wasting away from starvation...

Maybe Hayley will come and push me, he thought, a bitter smile creeping across his lips.

Her chest tightening at Lorenzo's malicious words, Hayley fought back tears. Why the fuck do I care? So he's angry, let him be angry, it isn't my problem. Hayley bit her lip, forgetting for the moment that she'd smear lipstick all over her teeth, something that would usually be apocalyptic in a much less literal sense than the chaos surrounding them. Her thoughts were filled with hatred spreading like oil. She hated him for being so dependent on that crappy apartment, for ruing the day they'd met and never giving thought to how she felt about the situation, she hated that he'd caused her to feel emotion, something she'd been repressing for years. But no, he came along and shattered her numbness without an apology or even a second thought, and now he was mad at her?!

The thoughts were stopped by Lorenzo shoving her. Hard. She kept her balance, but the thoughts had been shook loose. Instead of being more angry like she should have if she was at all in her right mind, she felt... sorry for him? It was just that she had been there before. Hell, she was halfway there now herself. The world he'd known had been ripped out from under his feet and here she was as if she had an answer for him. Wiping the lipstick off her teeth with the back of her hand, Hayley started towards Lorenzo, meaning to apologize, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him looking off the edge of the roof. He couldn't be considering... she paused to compose herself before speaking.

"You think throwing yourself off a roof is any less pathetic than dying on one? At least you'd die fighting," her voice shook with the effort of trying to keep her fear from surfacing. If he jumped- and he didn't look so far from doing it now- Hayley wouldn't have any real reason to not jump herself. It would be amusing, if she was someone else, that someone who so thoroughly despised other people now needed one to live a meaningful life. She'd never fully realized that people are what give things meaning. Art is beautiful because of definition, and most goals concern career or romance, all of which are human creations. She finally had the chance to estrange herself from society, but the cost was losing the one person she'd met that could make this hellhole worthwhile, and all because he'd rather hold on to a scrap of his old life than her. "I'm sorry you lost your apartment. If it's really so important to you, go back," she said with more sincerity than she'd ever admit to. "But can you honestly say you want to live the rest of your life without someone to share your smokes with?"

Lorenzo made a quiet scoffing noise at her proposal, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. Instead he continued staring out into the dark abyss, the dry, stiff breeze snaking its way up from the alleys below, lightly stirring the greasy black strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His dark skin and clothes made him near impossible to see against the inky backdrop of the sky, reducing him to a slender shadow dimly silhouetted against the intense blackness of space.

Already, his elevated heart rate was slowing, the once red hot intensity of his emotions once again settling into abject hopelessness. It had always been that way; he was the first to explode with emotion and throw fists, and then at once quick to cool off and realize the fruitlessness of his previous anger. He began to feel slightly foolish for letting himself appear so vulnerable again.

Swallowing hard, he turned on his heel, finally pulling himself away from the edge to face Hayley. Her slight figure was only barely visible in front of him, her face blackened and unreadable. He lowered his eyes, knowing she couldn't see his avoidance anyway, and took a deep breath, the scent of dirt and asphalt filling his lungs.

"Listen," he started, his voice soft and unsure, "I don't mean to take this out on you." He brought his arm up, pushing his hair back off his forehead with one hand in a nervous gesture. "It's just... everything's gone to shit; nothing's certain anymore. When I was alone, at least I could hold on to the illusion of having control over my situation. I could keep the pantry stocked, the apartment reasonably safe. But now, I don't have any routine to fall back on. Everything's been broken apart, and I realize now that nothing we do can fucking change it." He glared down at his feet, feeling disgust and embarrassment alternate ebbing and flowing in his mind. Stiffly lifting his head to look at her again, he grimaced before continuing, "What I mean is... I'm sorry. We're both in this, and I'm sure you have enough shit to think about without me pitching tantrums like a little bitch."

The air seemed to become shallow in her anticipation for a response. He wasn't really going to jump, right? And the apartment suggestion was hardly something Lorenzo could actually act on; the path they'd followed to get from point A to B was really more of a path from A to S it was so full of twists and turns. But still, the way he was acting was so unusual for him, she didn't doubt his potential to do something irrational. The thump of her heart had moved to her throat, constricting her breathing- yes, it was her heart, not emotion or something equally stupid- and further keeping her lungs from filling. Her head felt numb from anger at herself. You caused this. Why do you always have to make everything a joke? You're so stupid! She twisted a lock of hair around her finger almost hard enough to pull it out, barely noticing the sharp pain in her scalp. Hayley stared down at her red chucks, surely grimy, though they were only shadows against the roof at this point.

Keeping her hair firmly coiled around her finger, Hayley raised her eyes to Lorenzo's, which appeared as just slightly darker spots on the darkness of his face, which gave them the appearance of being sunken in. She released the lock of hair at his words, her face turning hot at the realization that she'd blamed herself. She always did that, even when there were people to tell her it wasn't her fault. Hayley sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to ignore the crinkly feeling left from the mousse. "Yeah, don't worry about it." she said nonchalantly. "Being a bit bitchy is... understandable. I mean, fuck, I'm lucky you didn't go all school shooting on me with the way I'm acting. I should take this more seriously..." she hesitated. "I mean, I am. It's impossible to not take this seriously. I couldn't exactly ignore it... just, I'll try to be more... sensitive." she cringed at the word.

The rosy beams that signified the rising sun began to stream over and around the buildings, illuminating Lorenzo's averted eyes, the color dancing on his cheekbones. Inexplicably, Hayley wanted to reach out and replace the sun's color with her hand, but she shook the thought from her mind as soon as it entered. The moans of the undead turned into a near approximation of anguished cries (the best their mushy mouths could produce, she supposed) as the sunlight tore at their flesh and melted their exposed bones leaving them nothing more as slightly more pulpy rainwater. It was beautiful, if you've got a thing for the grotesque. "We should get some sleep," Hayley muttered, trying to catch Lorenzo's eyes.

Daybreak had finally arrived, announced by the chorus of sizzling goo and wailing undead like the crowing of a rooster in a much more idyllic setting. Lorenzo squinted up at the raked lines of pink cutting through the brightening sky, dark specks dancing across his vision as his eyes adjusted. With the rising sun came a temporary relief, both from the discomforting blackness and suffocating heat, and more importantly, from dangerous thoughts stemming from bleak hopelessness. His lips curled into a faint smile, and he finally allowed his eyes to settle back down to meet Hayley's.

Both smudged makeup and dark circles ringed her painfully bloodshot eyes, and her pale skin was adorned with a myriad of blood splatters and grime. Her thick hair was piled awkwardly on the top of her head, flyaway strands poking out in odd directions and some caking together with an unidentifiable combination of substances. All in all, she was a sight to behold, but as a quick pass of his hand over his face revealed, he wasn't much better off. His skin was slick with grease, dried blood and dirt, his hair even more so, and he could feel patches of stubble growing in unevenly on his jaw. Without a bathroom to fight over, their personal upkeep would go unchecked and soon become too much of a hassle to deal with.

"Shit, you look awful," he said with a smirk, "After we sleep, we should look for a new place so you can get cleaned up." He streched his arms over his head, stiff joints popping noisily and the edge of his shirt rising up just above his hips. A warning pang shot through his ribs, reminding him again of his injury, and he let his arms fall back at his sides with a sigh. "So, you're the expert here on rooftop survivial. How do you usually do this?"

Self-consciously running a hand through her hair (really more walking- how'd her hair even get this tangled?), Hayley squinted up at Lorenzo. "Yeah, thanks. You're quite the beauty queen yourself." She was sure her face was worse off than his- with the amount of eyeliner alone she put on every day, there had to be a smudge of it on every part of her face- but at least she was slightly less blood-spattered.

"This rooftop is high enough that the zombies won't be able to get up here, so we can sleep without taking turns. I'm a pretty light sleeper, so if we sleep through the day their moaning should wake me up, if your snoring doesn't..." Hayley yawned, revealing teeth yellowed by cigarettes and lack of bleach strips. "But before I sleep, I think I'll do a bit of touch-up. You don't want to wake up to this mug, do you? Maybe you should do something about yours in the meantime... may I suggest prosthetics or surgery?"

Hayley crouched over her bag in the middle of the roof- the safest and most reasonable place, even if it did feel more exposed than if she were to sleep next to a wall- her back turned to Lorenzo. She flipped open her compact mirror and jolted back. Jesus, he's right, I look even worse than when I'm not wearing makeup at all. Hayley pulled a makeup wipe out of her bag, rubbed it across her face until all but a thin line of eyeliner was left around her eyes, dabbed on some concealer and then shoved everything else in her bag. She was too tired to worry about lipstick or eyeliner, but the minimal makeup didn't really look too shabby.

Laying her head down on her bag, Hayley called out to Lorenzo. "You gonna sleep or what? It's better if we stick together, but don't get any ideas just because you're sleeping next to me."

briannamal: SO NOW THEY SPOON RIGHT? AND SHE INTERACTS HER FIST WITH HIS FACE?
ALSO :hug:

HamletSpamlet: HECKS YES AND THEN THEY MAKE SOME MORE STAINED SHEETS FOREVER.
:glomp:

Feeling his eyelids already growing heavy at the thought of sleeping, Lorenzo groggily followed her to the center of the roof with dragging footsteps. He smirked crookedly as she stooped to fuss over her make up, carefully lowering himself to the ground beside her and drawing one leg up to his chest to remove his boots. Before he had even got the first lace undone, Hayley had already reapplied whatever the hell it was she caked on her face every morning and gotten comfortable on her make-shift bed. He stared down at her fresh face, his expression incredulous and mildly amused.

"Jesus... what are you, some kind of Mary Kay ninja?" he asked, his grin widening. It was clear to him that she hadn't had time to fully paint herself up like she usually did, but in a way, he preferred this sort of minimalism on her; maybe it was just the exhaustion getting to him, but he felt like she was starting to let down some of her walls around him, at least enough to let him see her with only a small amount of make up on. His smile softened, until it was just a slight twist of his lips, and he finally turned his attention back to his boots.

Pulling up one dirty pant leg, he started loosening the criss-crossing of laces, finally pulling off the leather shoe with a flourish. The other one soon followed, along with his threadbare charcoal socks, and he relished in the cool morning air hitting his cramped toes. Falling backwards onto his lumpy backpack with a heavy sigh, he found himself almost immediately overtaken by sleep, despite the hard edges of soup cans digging into his skull. Unconsciously, he rolled over, letting one arm flop over Hayley's head and lay across her face.

Shoving Lorenzo's arm off of her face, Hayley sat up and stretched her stiff bones, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the loud popping of her joints. Her toes hurt from being stuck in her shoes all night, but it was too late to take them off now. She envied Lorenzo for thinking far enough ahead to take his off, but she could probably smell his feet from a mile away... or maybe it was the rotting stench of the undead; it was hard to tell.

The sky was starting to get dark, and the sun was sinking into the hills. There were only a few hours of daylight left, tops, but it would be enough to find someplace to stay. "Hey," Hayley said softly, nudging Lorenzo in the side, just barely missing his hurt ribs. "Time to get up, Rip Van Winkle." He was almost cute when he was asleep, she noticed, his mouth slightly open and a bit of drool running down his cheek and his arm now over his face. It might've just been the long day they'd had before, but Lorenzo was a really heavy sleeper. Even more than Ch... Hayley swallowed hard. She didn't want to think about him again, what she'd done. Now agitated, Hayley leaned in close to Lorenzo's ear, close enough that her lips brushed it. "Get the hell up!" she shouted, standing up and backing away before he got the chance to lash out at her.

Hayley's shouting directly into his ear reached his brain with all the intensity of a nuclear explosion, and Lorenzo was immediately up on his feet in a panic. His dark eyes were wild and unfocused, still clouded with sleep and the fading memories of sexy dreams, but adrenaline was doing its job well and he was ready to sprint across rooftops to safety if needed be.

"What?! Where are they?!" Lorenzo shouted, fumbling for the gun tucked into his waistband. He was sure there must've been a whole mob of the undead closing in around them, perhaps already tearing his partner to pieces, but a quick scan of the rooftop revealed no immediate danger. It was still decidedly sunny out as well, probably only a few hours before sunset. A feeling of bewilderment washed over him, drowning out his blind panic, and he turned to face the dirty-blonde woman with a look of confusion marring his face. She was still crouched on the rooftop, grinning up at him like a cat, her painted lips twisted upwards in a self-satisfied smirk. As his still groggy mind began to process the situation, he came to realize he had been made a fool of, again.

His brows knotted together, and he bared his yellowed teeth at her in a snarl, swinging one thin arm upwards to smack across the back of her head. "Not. Funny." he growled, stooping to grab his boots and lowering himself onto his backpack. He carefully stretched his arms over his head, testing the previous night's injury. A mild aching stirred up in response, but otherwise he mostly felt stiff and irritated. He twisted, popping the vertebrae in his neck and realigning his spine at the same time. Sleeping on the hard cement had not been kind to him...

"Fuck, I don't know how you kept this up for so long," he muttered, gesturing to their makeshift beds with a snort. "I feel even worse than you look." He ran a hand through his oily clumps of black hair, pushing the sticky strands off his forehead. A quick pass of his hand over his face revealed that he probably wasn't looking too hot himself, judging by the light film of sleepy sweat and dried saliva.

He never really was a vain man; in fact his self-esteem, was surprisingly low considering the arrogant front he put up. That, he assumed, was mostly what got him laid before all the madness; women liked to be treated like shit, and he was always an ample supply of that. It wasn't that he really hated his looks, so much as he didn't really care one way or the other if his appearance pleased anyone else. But now, he felt oddly uneasy by his filthiness, self-conscious of the grease in his hair and the stench of sweat and dirt soaked into his clothing.

Foggy memories of the dreams he had been having began to bubble up in his idling mind, and he was grateful for his dark skin and the shock of dark hair that kept falling into his face as a hot blush burned up to the tips of his ears. 'Goddamnit, why did I dream about that? Why couldn't it have been someone like Michaela or something, this is gonna make everything fucking awkward.' He frowned down at the laces of his boots, the vivid red image of the woman's brains splattered across his kitchen tile pulling him away from worrying about a dream. 'At least I didn't wake up with a stiffy...'

He glanced over at Hayley, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the silence. He coughed, concentrating on pulling on his boots before speaking. "So... uhh, where are we headed now?" His fingers fumbled stupidly for a moment with the lacings, but he finally managed to fasten them tightly, and he rose to his feet, draping his pack over one shoulder. He stretched again, carefully avoiding her eye and trying to keep his tone even and dismissive. "I don't really know the layout or safety issues of any other apartments other than the ones in my old complex."

Hayley chuckled impishly, crouching on the rooftop, just out of Lorenzo's reach. "Well, I thought it was funny." She wrinkled her nose at his joints cracking, then stood and walked over to her things. She shoved the makeup she’d used the night before into the bag, pulling out a miniature box of cereal for breakfast. She poked a hole in it with a nail whose polish was now chipping Polish that later…, ripped the top off and poured a few cheerios into her mouth. They didn’t really make her much cheerier.

"Meh, it's not that bad once you get used to-- fuck you, Lorenzo," she said, flipping him the bird before searching through her bag for a mirror. Glancing into the small surface, she had to agree with Lorenzo... she looked pretty awful. Hayley snuck a look at Lorenzo, keeping her head tilted towards the mirror so he wouldn’t catch on. He was such a hypocrite, but even covered in grime and grease, she could see he was attractive. It wasn’t exactly easy to ignore. She was glad he was the last man on earth, and not someone ugly. She’d much rather repopulate the earth with him tha-- Hayley stared back down into her mirror. Yep, she was as red as she felt. Shiiit, he’s gonna notice and ask why I’m blushing, just stop thinking about it, stop thinking about him without a shir--that is not helping Hayley. She did another quick touch-up, not bothering to remove the previous night’s foundation... she really couldn’t wait to get to an apartment, maybe they’d even have an emergency water tank!

She turned around to face Lorenzo, who was now... shuffling around awkwardly? That wasn’t like him... maybe he was thinking about Michaela. He had probably had a crush on her or something, but now he was stuck with Hayley. He must be so disappointed. God, Hayley was so ignorant. She kicked the back of her shoe, then stood and walked to the edge of the roof, trying not to think about the long silence.

Hayley jumped at Lorenzo’s voice. God, it was like their brains were in-tune or something. Had he noticed the silence, too? Maybe he hadn’t been thinking about Michaela, maybe he’d been thinking about Hay-- "I dunno," she cleared her throat. “We've got a few hours, so I figured we'd go apartment shopping," she said in a mockingly chipper voice. "There's some apartments under this roof, we'll see if any of them have working lighting... maybe even a stove so we can eat warm ravioli!" she rolled her eyes. Food was one of the things she missed most, and even though thinking that made her feel like a fatass, it was true. Too bad there wasn't exactly hope for gourmet eating in her future; not like anyone was gonna bust in and save their asses. Hayley bitterly shoved the box of Cheerios back into her bag.

Motioning Lorenzo over to her, Hayley looked down the edge of the building where the fire escape was the night before. Metal poles stuck out of the building where the ladder had broken off. There was no way they’d be able to climb down that... Hayley tilted her head to look to the side of the building... there were some window ledges sticking out... if Lorenzo was up to it, they could make their way down there. "Do you like rock climbing?" she asked, without waiting before hoisting herself over the edge and blindly searching for the first ledge with her foot. "Try to follow me, okay? If you fall... well... try not to fall."

Cautiously stepping one leg up onto the ledge, Lorenzo leaned out and followed Hayley's gaze. At least 3 flights of the fire escape had collapsed, and were now precariously stacked onto the next balcony of the apartment story below them. The whole structure was unstable now, and looked ready to collapse at any given moment, so it seemed their only choice was to scale down the side of the building. He groaned, rubbing his hand over his forehead in frustration; this was really the last thing he wanted to do right after waking up, but the more time they wasted, the harder it would be to find a safe haven later. Obviously, Hayley had the same line of thought, as she had already started down over the side of the ledge.

As he watched her carefully toe for the first window, he found himself thinking back to when the pack of survivors first crashed his place nearly a month prior. It didn't seem that long ago he thought of the whole group as nothing more than a nuisance, maybe the possibility of a quick fuck from one of the ladies, but more likely candidates to use as live bait while he made a break for it when things went awry. But now, he was hovering over her, ready to catch her arm if she happened to slip. Maybe it was because she saved his ass more than once already. He at least owed her that much. Still, he couldn't understand why he was beating himself up over that stupid dream; it wasn't like he had any control over what bullshit his mind came up with when he slept, and it certainly didn't mean he was actually attracted to her.

She'd found a foothold now, and after repositioning her hands into the gaps between bricks, she started to stretch for the bottom half of the window with her other foot. When she found it, she drew her leg back and then swung, the impact of her rubber soled shoe shattering the glass. Setting both feet onto the ledge, she crouched and then deftly hopped into the building. There was a pause, then she called out to him that the coast was clear.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. It shouldn't be that much harder than when he climbed up the side of his building to the fire escape. Except that there was no drainpipe. And this was a lot higher up than the first floor balcony. He grimaced, clenching his fists tightly, but stepped up onto the ledge anyway, turning around and lowering his first leg over the side. His legs were a few inches shorter than Hayley's, so it was more of a stretch for him to find the first edging. Digging his fingers into the brick just below the rooftop, he slid his other leg down, until he heard the crunch of broken particles shattering under his boot. He brushed his face over his straining forearm, wiping the sweat off his brow, then stepped his other leg down onto the window sill, half jumping, half stumbling inside, just barely missing the shards of glass still hanging down from the top half of the entrance.

'Wasn't so hard...' he thought, pushing his hair off his forehead and glancing around. Hayley had already ducked out of the room, which appeared to be the combination living room and dining room, though the state of upheaval its furnishings were in made it hard to tell. To his right was a twisting hallway, dimly lit by an open door at the end of it. To his left was the archway to what he assumed was the kitchen, although it was too dark to tell without a flashlight. He started to reach for the one clipped to his belt loop, but decided instead to dig a pack of smokes out of his pocket. Lucky Strikes. He smiled faintly; while the invasion of the undead had knocked down all the pins of his life at one fell swoop, he did consider himself lucky that it hadn't spelled the end of the game for him. Opening the pack and pulling out his lighter, he stuck a cigarette between his lips, but paused as his thumb was about to strike the flint wheel. There was a possibility of a gas leak in the building... better to secure the place first; as much as his body ached for the nicotine, the last thing he wanted was to have made it this far just to die in a fiery explosion.

Frowning in mild irritation, he replaced the cig back into its packaging, and then into his pocket with his lighter. He set his backpack down onto the filthy floor with a groan, stretching his arms over his head and feeling glad to have the weight off his back. Then he yanked the baseball bat out from its straps, clicked on his flashlight and stepped over to the front door leading into the apartment hallway. Lorenzo peered out into the darkness, his eyes slowly adjusting to the low light. There was no sign of Hayley, but at the same time, no sign of zombies either. Still, he could just make out he slumped forms of half eaten corpses littering the floor, and he shuddered, closing the door with a soft click. Suddenly, he became aware of a soft dragging sound coming from behind him, and he whipped around to face the rest of the room, gripping his bat tightly. A few grunts sounded from the back room, and he carefully slid against the wall facing it, squinting into the darkness with bat drawn and ready to swing.

Just as his heart rate had started to reach a near deafening pace, he recognized the figure stepping backwards out of the twisting hallway; it was Hayley, gripping a corpse by the ankles and dragging it across the floor towards the front door. He let out a sigh of relief, lowering his bat and walking over to her. "Found this in the back bedroom," she explained with a grunt, "No windows back there, so the zombie stayed fresh and mobile. I took care of it though. Why don't you make yourself useful and open the door for me, alright?" Lorenzo rolled his eyes at her, but did as she had requested, holding the door open for the two ladies and examining the body as she unceremoniously pulled it by. Judging by the lack of gunshot wounds and the crushed state of her skull, he could gather that Hayley had used the butt of her shotgun to finish this one off. His thick brows furrowed; she had been a decent looking woman, younger than him most likely, and pretty underneath the gore of her gaping head wound. Her long black hair trailed behind her, curling silky tendrils sticking to the carpet with static and rotting blood. Her mouth was smeared in dried blood as well, and he quickly averted his eyes. Suddenly, the littering of various baby toys and broken highchair in the living room made sense, but he didn't want to think about the fate of the child now.

Hayley finally got the corpse out the front door, giving a final kick to her head as a send off. He flinched, despite himself, and closed the door as soon as his partner stepped back in. Clearing his throat, he spoke quickly to cover up the rising nausea he felt, "Well, now that you have that taken care of, we can see if anything still works in this place and if it does, we could probably use the doors to the closet and bedroom to board up the front door and broken window." Without waiting for her approval, he quickly walked over to the kitchen archway, shining his flashlight into the blackness. No zombies, but a fat rodent let out a shriek at the sudden brightness and scampered behind the counter tops. So too did a small army of roaches, fleeing in all directions down the sink and under the fridge. Lorenzo wrinkled his nose in disgust, then turned and located a dingy little light switch on the wall. Click. Click. Nothing happened. Stepping over the broken and dirty dishes scattered across the floor, he tested the sink. A slight straining sounded from the faucet, but no water poured forth. Shutting it off, he turned to the filthy, grime covered fridge. Upon opening it, the foul smell of rotting food poured forth, but he managed to catch a glimpse of several gallons of water sitting on the top shelf before he slammed the door closed in disgust, gagging and coughing feverishly. All that was left was the stove. It appeared to be a gas fueled model, which meant that even without power they could start the thing, provided their lighters held out and that it wasn't already pouring the flammable substance into the whole apartment. A quick search of the surrounding cupboards produced a small book of matches, and he took these out of the kitchen into the living room. Stepping back out of the direct pathway of the arch, he struck a match on the book, then after a brief hesitation, tossed it into the kitchen. No explosion followed, thankfully, which meant the stove and, more importantly, cigarettes were safe to use.

As soon as the small flame burned out on the linoleum, Lorenzo turned to Hayley, hands on his hips and a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "Well, here's the state of things; unfortunately, water and electricity are a no go. The stove works, but we'd have to ignite it manually each time we want to heat something up. There's a couple jugs of drinking water in the fridge, but that's not gonna get us very far. It'll at least last us the night though, and tomorrow morning we can find a grocery store to raid and get more water so we can shower and wash these fucking clothes." He plucked at his black shirt, stiff with dried sweat and saturated in the smell of smoke and blood. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand to be in this state of filthiness... especially with Hayley around, he felt particularly self-conscious of his appearance. Frowning, he met her painted eyes with his own dark ones. "So, what do you think?"

As she passed the kitchen, Hayley sniffed the air. Good, it didn't smell like there was a gas leak, so she'd be able to start a fire without ending her life. Hayley made her way to the back bedroom, briefly stopping to peek into the bathroom. It was long, with a shower at the end in front of a window which let in just enough light to allow Hayley to see a long countertop with one sink and a very long mirror. Yesss! she thought, exiting the room before she got too caught up in examining her reflection.

She carefully stepped into the back bedroom. It was nearly pitch black (What the fuck kind of bedroom doesn't have a window?!), and thus the most likely candidate for being full of zombies. Hayley pulled Chuck's shotgun out of her bag, balanced it so she could hold it with just her right hand and began taking tentative steps forwards. Her other hand found her lighter and struck the flint wheel creating a small flame. She flinched away from it in case she'd been wrong about the lack of gas (as if flinching would've helped at all), then flinched even farther backwards at the sight of a zombie. She nearly pulled the trigger before she realized that wasting a bullet on one zombie was ridiculous and flipped the gun around to bash the thing's skull in. She shoved the bloody gun back in her bag without bothering to wipe it off, mentally tallied the kill for when she had more time to mark it on her belt, and bent down to grab the corpse by the ankle. Where's Lorenzo when you need him? Lazy fuck. As she pulled the body out of the door, she saw Lorenzo readying himself to hit her with Michaela's bat (why did she still think of the weapons as theirs? They were dead). She wanted to yell 'boo' or something; he was such a pussy. But instead, she decided to be civil for once. "Found this in the back bedroom, no windows back there, so the zombie stayed fresh and mobile. I took care of it though. Why don't you make yourself useful and open the door for me, all right?" she motioned to the front door with his head in case he thought she meant the bathroom or something... it wouldn't surprise her.

Dragging the corpse past Lorenzo, she couldn't help but notice his eyes examining the woman. She felt a sharp stab of jealousy (You're really jealous of a corpse, Hayley? she chastised herself), and upon getting the dead woman out of the apartment gave her a bit more brutal of a send-off than she reasonably should have. She slammed the door shut.

Lorenzo was already in the kitchen and doing a routine check up. He looked like he had it covered (for once), so Hayley stood at a comfortable distance and watched. He searched the cupboards (which, from what Hayley could see, were pretty bare), found matches and apparently began to try to set the kitchen on fire? He couldn't possibly be checking for gas, unless he'd lost his sense of smell (which his recoiling from the refrigerator disproved), but maybe he really was that dumb.

"I think it's the best we're gonna get. We're gonna have to figure out some easy way to get out of the apartment... we could just board the front door up so we could undo it at leave easily, but then we'd have to step over that goddamn corpse every time we leave," she wasn't being catty, just who wants to step over a dead body? "But it's gotta be better than scaling a building down seven stories..." Hayley stepped over to Lorenzo and plucked the cigarette from his lip, placed it between her own and walked over to the least damaged couch. She patted the cushion next to herself, motioning for Lorenzo to sit. "Guess we can finally stop running around for a few hours," she said with a smile.

A small spark traveled down his spine as Hayley's fingers brushed against his lips, but Lorenzo chose to ignore it. Although slightly taken back by her uncharacteristically friendly behavior, he grinned back, canines flashing, and flopped down on the seat beside her, the ragged cushion sinking under his weight. He leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head, but then thought better of it upon remembering his unbathed state, and ended up crossing his arms over his chest. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the rather frazzled looking blonde took a deep drag, then snatched the cigarette back from her as she exhaled. As he closed his lips over it, he could still taste the faint sweetness of her lip gloss on the filter, and he half smirked as he breathed in. 'Kinda like a long distance kiss...'

The familiar burning in his throat returned, and he exhaled through his nose, again relishing in the pain of being alive. He passed the cig back over to Hayley, subconsciously running his tongue over his teeth and lips. Smoke, raspberry. "We should board it up for tonight though," he started, motioning to the door. "Who knows how many more of them are preserved in the other rooms around us? And the ones that aren't will be rising again soon." He scratched at the patchy stubble on his chin, his eyes idly examining the filthy ceiling. There were water stains and sagging areas everywhere; it looked even worse than his place had been. "We can take down the boards tomorrow and maybe pick up a rope or something when we go out for supplies? It would be a pain in the ass, but I just don't really like the idea of leaving the front door unbarred in an unfamiliar building."

When Hayley brought her hand over to pass him the quickly fading cigarette, he started to reach for it, then, lips twisting, he drew his hand back. "You know... I could just light one of my own," He murmured, pulling out the rest of the Lucky Strikes from his pocket. "Why do we do this anyway?"

It was a bit strange sitting this close to Lorenzo with nobody else in the room. Until now, they'd either been outside (usually facing away from each other) or Hayley had been too busy staring at Chuck to really pay too much attention to Lorenzo. She had to admit, he was much more interesting to watch than Chuck, who was so absurdly perfect and... boring. Hayley was caught off-guard by Lorenzo's refusal of their cig."This one is yours, though," she said, sticking the cig in his mouth and letting her fingers linger on his lips for a bit too long. "And I dunno why we do it, but... I kinda like it. We don't have to though, I just thought it'd help you learn how to share," she said, leaning back against the arm of the couch and pulling her legs up to her chest so they didn't touch Lorenzo.

"Anyways, that sounds like a good enough plan. It was bad enough not boarding up my front door when there weren't zombies everywhere..." she paused, pulling on a hair that was starting to curl. "Not that I ever had my own front door." Hayley stared down at her shoes, trying to decide whether or not to move from her current position.

After a few minutes of mulling over the pros and cons, Hayley stretched her legs out over Lorenzo's lap. She knew he'd probably just shove them off and bitch at her, but curling up in the corner of the couch wasn't her style and she kind of liked the way this felt. "You know, it's probably really inappropriate to say this, but I like this. Just me and you. I mean, it wasn't bad having... those two," she didn't think she could say their names out loud just yet. "Around, but... they were so plastic. I mean, you smell worse than they did, but at least you've got a personality." She chuckled a bit, looking into Lorenzo's eyes. What was it about him that made her so glad that he was the last person on earth besides her? Guess I've got a lifetime to figure it out...

Fuck, there was that sudden jolt to his nerves again, prickling down his back like an electric shock. 'What the fuck, they're just fingers. What am I getting so worked up about?' It was probably just the lingering aftereffects of his... less than appropriate dream that morning. Lorenzo shifted the cig over to the corner of his mouth, taking a light puff without pulling it from his lips and glaring out into the disheveled room. "I don't mind it, I guess. It just seems stupid if you really think about it." He smiled at her, regarding her out of the corner of his eye, then closed them as he took a deep drag before passing the remaining stub back to her.

For a moment, he was content to listen to her in the blackness of his mind. Unlike the malicious darkness that devoured all life and hope in its wake each nightfall, it was peaceful in his head, with only Hayley's deep, softly accented voice to keep him rooted to reality. He briefly wondered why she never had a front door, but the thought was quickly shaken from his mind as he felt her legs stretching over his lap. His eyes flashed open, and he turned to stare at her with one thick brow raised. It seemed so typical of her to invite him to sit next to her out of what he thought was good naturedness just to be used as a footstool...

He regarded the outstretched legs with a slight snarl, but he didn't really feel like pushing them off. It was strangely comfortable... "You could've at least taken your shoes off first," he muttered, his mild irritation leaking into his voice, but he smirked at her despite himself. "I agree with you, though..." he continued, starting to unlace her right shoe. "...that's totally inappropriate and you have no fucking respect for the dead." He pulled her gaudy red sneaker off with an air of finality, throwing it across the couch at her. "Seriously, I fucking agree. I don't know what you saw in that guy, especially considering the company he kept." The bright red image flashed in his mind again, and he swallowed hard, distracting himself from the sick feelings by starting on her other shoe and trying to ignore the similarity in color. Even though the rising nausea, he felt a twinge of jealousy rear its ugly head again. It would have been nice to know she felt like that back then...

Hayley was about to pull her legs back to take her shoes off (and probably leave them pulled back), when Lorenzo started unlacing them for her. It was so out of character for him, Hayley couldn't help but giggle. It was like he'd suddenly become her servant or something, but at the same time, it was... kind of sweet. She didn't tell him that, for fear he'd stop, and she'd do her best to not tease him about it later. She had promised to take things more seriously, after all.

"Oh, I've got no respect for the dead? I'm not the one who's gonna jerk off to a corpse later!" she said, motioning to the front door. "It's like your eyes were fucking glued to her tits!" she said with a laugh.

She ran a hand over her hair (the tangles made it practically impossible to run her hand through her hair anymore), and looked up at the ceiling, flicking the finished cigarette in the general direction of the kitchen. He's really fixated on my crush on Chuck... as if he hasn't had more embarrassing crushes! she sighed and responded to the ceiling "Like I said, best I'd seen so far, and he had really nice hair." She paused and glanced at Lorenzo's hair out of the corner of her eye before continuing on.

"He didn't give me any smokes or anything, though. That's kind of a requirement if you wanna get in these pants." She sat up and held her hand out to Lorenzo. "Now gimme a smoke."

Pulling off her other shoe, he responded absentmindedly. "Best rack I've seen in awhile, dead or alive." Briefly considering throwing this one at her too, he thought better of it and let it drop from his hand to the floor. Again, he gave the woman sitting beside him a sidelong glace, his dark eyes taking in the length of her body as best he could through his peripheral vision; small breasts on a thin, lanky frame. The sharp rise of her hipbones underneath her jeans was nice, though. "Can you really blame me?" he added with a snort, turning to face her with an impish grin.

She made some halfhearted attempt to smooth her wild and damaged locks, and he started to wonder if she'd noticed his scrutiny of her. Oh, no. Of course not, she was just thinking about her lost love again... 'Fuck.' He hated feeling jealous, especially of a dead man, since he was usually the one stealing the girl's hearts. It was like the last two women on earth had an immunity to his... uncouth charm. He was already starting to give in; holding open doors, taking off shoes.... like a pussywhipped husband. He growled under his breath, running his own hand through his greasy hair. It certainly couldn't compare to Chuck's smooth and flyaway free style, with all the chunkiness of a clumsy home-styled haircut, sticking up at all angles on his head from the oil and the natural coarse texture. Even though all these thoughts were brewing in his mind like an approaching storm, on the surface they had barely made a ripple. "What, you had a fetish for bowl cuts or something?"

Her next statement caught him off guard. There was no way of thinking around it; that was a blatantly flirtatious demand. Maybe she wasn't totally immune after all... He raised a brow at her again, smirking. "Is that a fact?" He cracked open the pack of cigarettes, sliding one out and passing it over to her. "There you go, princess, now let me under your skirts already."

Pursing her lips at Lorenzo's grin, Hayley decided against responding. She knew she wasn't the most attractive person, so it was really no use trying to say she was hotter than anyone else... even if they were dead. At least he's not talking about Michaela's tits... she shuddered at the thought. She wouldn't have laid that bitch even if she was the last... Hayley pulled out her lipgloss tube and ran some over her lips even though she really didn't need any more.

Raising her eyebrow at Lorenzo's attempt at grooming, Hayley slipped the lipgloss back into her pocket. "What, you've never heard of the Beatles? Mop tops are the best," she said, following Lorenzo's hand with her eyes. She wondered what his hair felt like, how it would feel if she rested her hand on the back of his neck and k--"Anyways, like you said, best hair I've seen in a while, dead or alive." She rolled her eyes.

Hayley lit the cigarette and stuck it between her lips, only taking a quick drag because her heart was beating so fast. She slid her left leg forward until she was on top of Lorenzo, and put the cig between his lips (as if he can't do it himself...). "Too bad I don't own any skirts," she said with a smirk, shifting herself back to her previous position. "Better luck next time, champ."

Lorenzo's eyes widened and brows arched in surprise as Hayley straddled his hips, and he instinctively started to lean towards her, only to have his lips meet a cigarette instead of her skin. 'What a fucking tease!' he thought bitterly as she returned to her side of the couch, smiling innocently. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that you're a fucking man." he muttered, taking a drag before pushing the cigarette back between her fingers. He exhaled towards the ceiling, watching the swirling wispy smoke dissipate into invisibleness. He absentmindedly ran his hand along the length of her calf as he leaned his head back onto the sofa, the other idly flicking his lighter.

"So," he said to the ceiling, letting his eyes slide shut again. "I couldn't help but notice your accent. What made you decide to come here of all places?" He scratched his exposed throat, finally returning his arms behind his head as he had originally intended on sitting. Who cares if his body odor offended her. "New York's not the most tourist friendly place, even without zombies."

"More of a man than you'll ever be," Hayley scoffed, stretching her back. It felt like she hadn't just relaxed in forever, so this was really nice. This crappy apartment was her favorite place on earth in that moment, even though she knew she'd be sick of it in a matter of days. She looked down the couch at Lorenzo as he ran a hand across her leg, failing to hold back an involuntary shudder and blush from spreading through her body. She knew it was greedy, but when his fingers touched hers to exchange the cig, she wanted them to stay there, but she figured she'd fucked with him enough for one night.

Leaning back to face the ceiling (and to turn her nostrils away from Lorenzo's now exposed armpits), Hayley took a drag of the cig and flicked the ash, holding it out to Lorenzo, though she wasn't sure he could see her do it. "Well, as you can probably tell, I'm not exactly the friendliest of people. I figured I'd fit in well. Plus, I didn't really have the cash for anything more than a one-way train ticket and I wanted to get as far away from my family as possible," she blurted all in one breath. She really didn't want to talk about her past more than she had to, but there wasn't anywhere to run, and the question wasn't too intrusive anyways. "You don't sound like you like it much here yourself... what made you stay? No girl, obviously, and he didn't seem the type to become to attached to family, but maybe she was just projecting.

The couch creaked wearily as Hayley shifted her position, and Lorenzo opened his eyes to see her holding out the cigarette to him. He leaned over her legs, plucking the now slightly crumpled stick from her fingers. As he did so, he noted that she looked a little flushed, especially around her face and cheeks, but it was probably just the way she was leaning back that was giving that illusion. Before he'd even gotten re-situated and placed the cig in his mouth, she had already buried him under a flash flood of words, all stumbling over each other in a rush to leave her lips and be done with. Obviously she had some family issues, and it would be wise not to press the matter any further.

He raised his hands up to her defensively, letting a puff of smoke out as he spoke, "Take it easy, I was just curious." The question that followed caused his jaw to clench involuntarily, and he cursed, spitting out the now ruined cigarette and crushing it under the toe of his boot. It was pretty much spent anyway, but he felt at a loss with what do do with his hands without it. He ended up resting his forearms on Hayley's legs, turning his lighter over in his hands nervously.

"Just stubborn I guess," he said, his voice soft and eyes trained on a greasy stain on the carpet. "I went to school here, and I was just convinced that this was gonna be the city I made a name for myself in." He smiled bitterly, raising his gaze slightly to stare into the darkness of the hallway. "But I was so fucking wrong. Even before the outbreak, this place will chew you up and shit you out. I was barely making ends meet, never sold a piece for more than $40. I..." The lighter dropped to the floor; a knot rose up in his throat that he couldn't swallow. 'Oh fuck me, not now...' He struggled to finish his sentence with some shred of dignity. "...I should've just left when... had the... chance." 'Fuck fuck fuck. FUCK'

Lorenzo turned away quickly, covering his face with one hand as he leaned heavily on the arm rest. Just perfect. Great timing. He tried to focus on maintaining a steady breathing rate, trying to calm himself before any waterworks started. He thought, for a minute, that maybe he could walk away without breaking down, that maybe he could recover from it. But there was her face, her laugh, and the utter fucking tragedy that he would ever experience either of those things again. It was too much, and he rose to his feet suddenly, shoving Hayley's legs off of his lap and quickly walking into the darkened bathroom.

Losing her balance and nearly falling off the couch, Hayley stared after Lorenzo in a state of utter confoundedness. What just happened? she thought, sitting up. She had to follow him, didn't she? With the way he ran off, it wasn't likely he just had to pee. Hayley stood, then sat back down in a moment of self-doubt. She took a deep breath and stood again, bravely taking two steps forwards. She shook her head and walked back again. No, no. You have to go. Come on, you can comfort a person... there's always a first time... she walked over to the bathroom door and heard... sniffling? No, nope, no. I definitely cannot do this. No way in hell, she started pacing across the living room floor, wringing her hands.

Then she suddenly thought of the lack of running water. He'd want some water to splash on his face or something, right? That would be helpful? Hayley walked quickly to the kitchen, pulled the refrigerator door open (trying hard not to breathe in) and grabbed one of the gallons of water. "Shit!" she exhaled, opening a cabinet to search for a plastic cup or something and kicking the refrigerator door closed in one swift movement. Her search turned up a styrofoam cup that was a bit dusty but otherwise pristine. She ran some water over it so it would be clean, then poured some in it so it would be easier for Lorenzo to splash it on is face or drink it, or whatever a crying person does with water.

Hayley made her way to the bathroom door, holding the jug under her arm and the cup on the same side, and knocked on the door with her other hand. "Lorenzo?" she said softly, wishing her voice wasn't so goddamn manly for once, so she could at least pretend she was helping. "I'm coming in, okay?" she opened the door cautiously, and stepped towards Lorenzo. She set the jug on the counter and held the cup out to him wordlessly.

"FUCK!"

His leg swung in a powerful arc, the steeled toe of his boot punching another hole in the cheap plaster walls. It was so fucking unfair, he never even got to see her once last time. His phone, still at the old apartment somewhere, had long since run out of battery, but it still contained the last text she would ever send him on it.

Full of mispressed keys and horrible T9 mistakes, it was almost illegible, but the message was so clear. In her dying throes, she'd sent her brother one last text goodbye. The outbreak hadn't even reached New York yet, so he'd simply replied asking if she'd accidentally sent him a text from her pocket or something. Days passed without a response, but he didn't pay any mind to it, too preoccupied with trying to keep food in his cupboards. But after everything went to hell and he'd tried calling her again, the obvious reason behind the text surfaced. And he realized that the last conversation he had with her, full of static, gentle teasing, casual plans... was the last time he would ever hear her voice again. 'Fucking selfish prick, fucking stupid...'

He swung his fist now, putting yet another gash in the bathroom wall, withdrawing it with bleeding knuckles before crumpling to the tiled floor in sobs. Suddenly, a knock sounded from the door. 'Shit, go the fuck away, not now...' But Hayley came in anyway, holding a water jug and dusty styrofoam cup, which she awkwardly held out to him like some kind of peace offering. He stared at it with bleary bloodshot eyes, then up at her, unsure of what she wanted him to do. Hot tears were still streaming down his cheeks uncontrollably, his chest occasionally catching with a quiet sob.

It was obvious she wasn't gonna leave until he accepted her offer, so he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, grabbing the cup from her hand. Lingering anger made him impatient with her, and he just wanted to scream for her to get the fuck out already, but it was clear that he at least owed her an explanation. He stared down into the water, catching a glimpse of his ragged expression. 'Jesus, no wonder she's in shock.'

"My sister," he managed, his voice soft and broken up. "She... in Ohio... didn't make --" Fuck. He buried his face in his hands, letting the cup drop to the floor, spilling its contents messily over his boots. "I never even got to see her again! All because I was too caught up in my own stupid fucking problems! I never got to..." He couldn't go on, and he started sobbing. Great way to make an awkward relationship even more tormentous...