[ At first she thinks he’s stepping back because there’s something in the distance he’s spot before her. She doesn’t move an inch and tries to hear over the sound of the whistling wind and the low hum of paranoia ringing in her own skull.

But no, no danger yet. Just failed charm.

Her face freezes in a clenched jaw, just for the briefest moment, and then the sugary sweet smile is smoothed back into place. She feels nothing. Almost all the time. Except anger. And the feeling of her pride being smashed to bits by a socially awkward hammer. God she hates weirdos. ]

I get it. Traditional man, huh? Not until marriage. Cute. [ that’s not what it is at all. Nobody acts that way over just the suggestion of a date. But he’s offering shelter that’s good enough for her. Especially since for some reason, some strange reason it feels like a set of teeth are never far from the very back of her neck lately. ]

Bunker? Great. I’m guessing they don’t have aged whiskey and bathrobes down there, huh? What a welcome.

[ she starts walking already, in a direction she’s not even sure is the correct one to get to whatever bunker he’s referring to. She brushes as close as possible to Will, no other reason than to see his reaction. A small smirk on her lips. ]

And that’s not true. I would have asked you anyway. I think it’s your beanie.

[ playful or mean. Who knows. ]

You got a name?