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She's not sure how it's come down to this - the two of them standing in the long abandoned drugstore, guns aimed at each other, both seconds away from being the one to pull the trigger. But the sound just outside the door has her hesitating. Infected, more than she'd like to deal with on her own from the sound of it. And she knows he can hear it too. She can see his eyes darting between her and the door. If she wasn't worried he'd pull the trigger on instinct, she might consider making her move while he's trying to assess the growing problem out front. But she wants to live to see tomorrow. And something tells her he feels the same.

Her voice is low, a mumble just loud enough for him to hear but not enough to attract much attention from what's on the other side of the old glass. "Look, either you kill me now and deal with those fuckers outside by your lonesome. Or we deal with it together and live to kill each other a day. So what's it gonna be?"

Her eyes track his every micro expression. The way his jaw clenches, practically able to hear him grinding his teeth. His finger's still on the trigger but there seems to be a hesitancy towards her that wasn't there a minute ago. Nostrils flare as he breathes out a long, frustrated breath before the quick jerk of a nod. "Fine. But just remember if you change your mind and shoot me, better make sure it's a good one. If it's not, I'll find you and kill you with my bare hands."

"Back at ya, big guy," is all she says in response, swinging her aim towards the door that's started to rattle when he does and braces herself for what's to come.

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE | a canon-divergent fanfic based on HBO's The Last of Us. Coming soon...