9.28.1999
The older gentleman looked over the room from his position by the jukebox alongside a few other individuals as he leaned forward in a chair. His hand rested inside his jacket, more specifically on his conceal carry, as he grimaced a bit at the distant sounds of gunfire. He glanced around the bar, though the young woman who was just getting up with a hammer in her fist.
This wasn’t how his night was supposed to be going. He was supposed to be sipping on a shot of tequila, and reminiscing about his squadmates, maybe talking to the bartender a bit. The last thing he’d expected was for the dead to be mobbing the streets and eating people. From the sounds of things, there were people out there who were understandably putting up a fight.
Bennett pushed himself out of the seat with a grunt of effort, before making his way over towards the bar. As much as he didn’t like it, she had a point. If the army was involved, it had to be worse than it looked. He was at least thankful they hadn’t just dropped a nuke and considered the issue solved. Yet.
“Alright ma’am, but what’s your plan to do that? We’re on the south side, and there’s an awful lot of city between the cordon and us.” His tone might’ve been a bit more accusatory than he intended, but just moving out there without a plan was asking to get people killed. He reached into his jacket and, the bar’s no smoking policy be damned, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes out of his coat, taking one out for himself and offering the pack to her. Everyone needed to calm down, and some good ol’ southern tobacco always helped him, at least.
The older gentleman looked over the room from his position by the jukebox alongside a few other individuals as he leaned forward in a chair. His hand rested inside his jacket, more specifically on his conceal carry, as he grimaced a bit at the distant sounds of gunfire. He glanced around the bar, though the young woman who was just getting up with a hammer in her fist.
This wasn’t how his night was supposed to be going. He was supposed to be sipping on a shot of tequila, and reminiscing about his squadmates, maybe talking to the bartender a bit. The last thing he’d expected was for the dead to be mobbing the streets and eating people. From the sounds of things, there were people out there who were understandably putting up a fight.
Bennett pushed himself out of the seat with a grunt of effort, before making his way over towards the bar. As much as he didn’t like it, she had a point. If the army was involved, it had to be worse than it looked. He was at least thankful they hadn’t just dropped a nuke and considered the issue solved. Yet.
“Alright ma’am, but what’s your plan to do that? We’re on the south side, and there’s an awful lot of city between the cordon and us.” His tone might’ve been a bit more accusatory than he intended, but just moving out there without a plan was asking to get people killed. He reached into his jacket and, the bar’s no smoking policy be damned, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes out of his coat, taking one out for himself and offering the pack to her. Everyone needed to calm down, and some good ol’ southern tobacco always helped him, at least.