World War Z

[Zihark Faroda]

Ricard let out a sigh. There was obviously more at work here than was being said. Ricard wasn't quite sure what to do, but he knew he had to do something. "No, you don't, and you don't have to be if you don't want to. I am here. I'm willing to listen if you want to talk."  

[Nikki Faroda]

"Why would you be there for a girl you just met, why won't you leave me alone, and why do you have to be a male, of all thing why that?" She lean forward, clenching her knees tighter. Why did she believe him? Why did she trust him? Why did she want him? Harley went to sit on the couch.  

[Zihark Faroda]

'Why do I have to be a male,' Ricard thought to himself. 'What did that have to do with anything?' He decided not to worry about it at the moment and concentrate on more important things. "I won't leave you alone because you're obviously in pain, and I can't leave you like that. As for why I'd be there for a girl I just met, I don't know. Maybe it's the current situation, maybe it's because we need each other right now, maybe I'm just being crazy. The reason doesn't matter. All that matters is I am here." Ricard went to try the door again, but decided against it. He seemed to be making a tiny bit of progress, and didn't want to risk ruining what little progress he was making.  

[Nikki Faroda]

"We need each other," she restates. "How could you possible need me?" She stood up, wiped her tears away, and sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled herself together. He would never know it but she knew she needed him. She didn't know why, but she knew she did.  

[Zihark Faroda]

"Well," Ricard began saying with a slight chuckle, "the world is going to Hell in a handbasket all around us. I think that alone is a pretty good reason why we need each other, don't you?" Through the door Ricard could here some shuffling and then the squeak as something was put on a mattress. She wasn't blocking the door anymore, but Ricard didn't want to barge in just yet. He'd wait a little longer just to make sure he didn't lose her trust.  

[Nikki Faroda]

"Wouldn't that be even more of a reason to stay away from strangers?" She wondered if she would have to watch him die like she had her aunt. Well he could have to watch her die too ... Wait that wouldn't happen she was to ...well her to be killed by this disease. Worst come to worst she had Harley to help her.  

[Zihark Faroda]

"You could have stabbed and killed me when we first met," Ricard said, absentmindedly touching the graze on his side as a humourous afterthought that she actually did attempt that a little while ago. "You took me with you and allowed me into your home. As far as I'm concerned, right now you are not a stranger."  

[Nikki Faroda]

"Well fine then what are we? Apparently we aren't strangers, I don't know you enough to be friends." She said then started fiddling with her knife. She needed something to calm her, a bath ... out of the question, a drink ... he was in her way, a book ... all in her bag which she left on the table.  

[Zihark Faroda]

"Well," Ricard started to say, unsure exactly what to say next, "I guess that's what we'll find out together. We'll just have to take it one step at a time." Ricard reached for the doorknob again. "I'm coming in," he called out as he turned the knob and opened the door. He saw Ashley sitting on her bed, playing with her knife. She had stopped crying, but he could see the redness and puffiness of her eyes, as well as the dried tear stains on her cheeks. "Are you ok?" he asked taking a few steps toward the bed.  

[Nikki Faroda]

"If you say so" She said as she fiddled more. A little after he walked in she ended up cut her hand pretty deeply. Trying to hide the pain she gets up and goes to the kitchen. After turning on the faucet and putting her hand under it she answers his question "do i look ok?"  

[Zihark Faroda]

Ricard watched as the knife cut Ashley's hand, and before he could do or say anything she went out of the room. Ricard followed after her to the kitchen, where she was running her hand under the water. "No, not at all," he answered, "but it's obvious to me. It looks like you're the one who needs to accept it and admit it." He walked over to her and stared down at her hand. "Here, let me take a look at it," he said as he went to grab her hand.  

[Nikki Faroda]

(Ricard=6" Ashley=5'6)"i need to admit and accept? I already have." She said in a firm tone any hint of pain had left her face as she turned to him. As she noticed how close he was and how fine his muscle looked in his wife beater. Why was she thinking that he was a guy after all an apparently hot guy but a guy none the less. She couldn't like him she wouldn't like him. She was so deep in her thoughts she didn't notice the fact that she started blushing when he grabbed her hand.  

[Zihark Faroda]

'Hhmm, she's getting serious now,' Ricard thought to himself as he took her hand and started looking at the cut. 'Wonder if that's good or bad.'

"Well, you could have fooled me with the way you ran out of the room and shut yourself off like you did. Do you really call that 'admitting and accepting it?'" The cut didn't look too bad. It was deep, but it didn't look like it would result in any permanent damage. Blood still poured from it though, especially since Ricard had taken her hand out from under the running water to look at it. He took her hand and placed it back under the water.

"You should be all right as long as we dress that wound properly," he said as he looked now into her face, noticing that her cheeks had adopted a rather bright rosy color to them. "Uh . . . um . . . you . . . you do have some . . . uh . . . rubbing alcohol and bandages around here . . . uh . . .right?"  

[Nikki Faroda]

"No i call it hiding," she said regaining herself. "right, will you put my tool box on the counter here?" she asked him knowing she couldn't do it herself at least not with that wound of her.  

[Zihark Faroda]

"Hiding huh," Ricard replied almost amusedly. "Hiding is just another way of running away and running away is not accepting or admitting anything." Ricard started looking around the room for where Ashley had placed her bag and spotted it on the nearby table. He looked inside, grabbed the toolbox and brought it over to the counter. Without looking into her face, as he was still unsure of what to make of what just happened, he reached for her hand again and started drying it with a nearby rag. He then pulled some rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball out of the toolbox. "This is going to sting, a lot," he said as he poured the alcohol onto the cotton and then started cleaning her cut. When that was done he pulled out a bandage and placed it over the cut.