[ Firing blind for a moment, which she isn't quite as good at as he is, Natasha slides her hand along the belt, impersonal despite the intimacy of where her fingers drag... and then unclips the pouch of rounds and moves them over to her own. It's kind of flattering, in its own way. Were he someone else, she'd probably just take the whole thing. ]
[ Her distraction has let the undead press closer, and she focusses cluster fire to press them back, the fallen zombies acting as further impediment to those left behind. But there's so many, and they don't seem to be thinning out. But her face reflects no worry, her tone as cool as ever. ]
Since we're fictional and all, I don't suppose someone wants to write us up a helicopter.
no subject
[ Her distraction has let the undead press closer, and she focusses cluster fire to press them back, the fallen zombies acting as further impediment to those left behind. But there's so many, and they don't seem to be thinning out. But her face reflects no worry, her tone as cool as ever. ]
Since we're fictional and all, I don't suppose someone wants to write us up a helicopter.