Desmond Williams
When the brunette woman admitted her loss to the group, Desmond momentarily lost his sense of urgency, replaced by a feeling of condolence. He looked around the room at the six others; all had taken different paths to where they stood now -- all had likely faced the loss of someone close. But this loss was so fresh, and real, at least to her.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," he spoke, maintaining eye contact. "For your loss. I know I'm just a stranger to you, but I mean every word." While it was true, he felt sympathy for the woman, it had been a long time since Desmond truly cared for anyone on Earth. His line between cordiality and companionship was about as wide as the English channel, and he'd since given up on trying to bridge the gap. He could have friends by his side, but as long as they remain just that, Desmond wouldn't be shaken up when, one day, they were gone.
The afternoon trudged on, and soon it would start getting dark. Desmond knew that they needed to leave: before it got too dark to travel, or any more corpses showed up. The first problem was that they were no group yet: nobody trusted anybody, really. Sure, Desmond trusted the woman he'd been traveling with up until the apartment, and it looked like Sarah trusted the soldier, but getting all of them to travel together? To watch each other's backs instead of their own? It was going to be tough. The second problem was that he simply had no idea where they were going. His partner mentioned 8th Street and he nodded, unfamiliar with the town as a whole but relieved at the discovery of a destination.
"Well, 8th Street sounds like as good a destination as any. I suppose, that's where we're going," he gestured to himself and his partner, whose name he still didn't have the slightest clue about. "Either our paths diverge here, or we can all travel together. But I know that today has been my first time seeing a friendly face -- let alone six -- in over a week. If we do split up, how much longer until we see another? So, let's decide here and now. Are we just a bunch of passing strangers, or are we a group?"
When the brunette woman admitted her loss to the group, Desmond momentarily lost his sense of urgency, replaced by a feeling of condolence. He looked around the room at the six others; all had taken different paths to where they stood now -- all had likely faced the loss of someone close. But this loss was so fresh, and real, at least to her.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," he spoke, maintaining eye contact. "For your loss. I know I'm just a stranger to you, but I mean every word." While it was true, he felt sympathy for the woman, it had been a long time since Desmond truly cared for anyone on Earth. His line between cordiality and companionship was about as wide as the English channel, and he'd since given up on trying to bridge the gap. He could have friends by his side, but as long as they remain just that, Desmond wouldn't be shaken up when, one day, they were gone.
The afternoon trudged on, and soon it would start getting dark. Desmond knew that they needed to leave: before it got too dark to travel, or any more corpses showed up. The first problem was that they were no group yet: nobody trusted anybody, really. Sure, Desmond trusted the woman he'd been traveling with up until the apartment, and it looked like Sarah trusted the soldier, but getting all of them to travel together? To watch each other's backs instead of their own? It was going to be tough. The second problem was that he simply had no idea where they were going. His partner mentioned 8th Street and he nodded, unfamiliar with the town as a whole but relieved at the discovery of a destination.
"Well, 8th Street sounds like as good a destination as any. I suppose, that's where we're going," he gestured to himself and his partner, whose name he still didn't have the slightest clue about. "Either our paths diverge here, or we can all travel together. But I know that today has been my first time seeing a friendly face -- let alone six -- in over a week. If we do split up, how much longer until we see another? So, let's decide here and now. Are we just a bunch of passing strangers, or are we a group?"