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"What? I won't - what?" Noah blinked, increasingly worried. "Why what? I don't, I don't understand."

He startled violently as crashing, crunching sounds announced Barry's return. "It's back -- "

Al's HP: 40 +3 = 43

Al had no idea what it was. He saw the whole thing as a distraction, turning it back on Noah. "I'm no falling for that one. I'm no stupid." He slowly started to stand, finally taking he scarf off from around his head, wadding it up and throwing it at Noah. "Catch your own disease."

There was a black mark stretched across his throat.

HP - 43/50

Al couldn't see his own neck. He shook his head, "You just want me to run off looking for a mirror."
he grabbed the box of tissues off the ground and started rubbing all over again. "I'll get your concoction off of me instead."

In spite of her suspicions that this was not the place or time to voice concern for Rep, especially when Robert was ultimately the one to do so, Mimsy was pleased with him for his efforts. His words were tinted in favor of what she wanted to hear, not what would be reasonably coming from him; the response he got was positive in turn as she leaned affectionately against him, taking care to avoid any risk of losing the antidote.

It went about as well as she'd anticipated. She had no real grasp of the ongoing conflict between them, preferring to keep herself out of it as much as possible, but this offered some potential insight - it seemed that the perception of Robert as some kind of threat, whatever that threat might have been, extended to more than she was previously aware of.

She knew that this was the reaction that Robert had earned with their history, just as her own interaction with Rep consisted of what they'd earned from each other, and gave him a tentative glance to see if he intended to reciprocate in the same way that he typically had. Realizing the danger of this, she shifted the vial into just one hand and reached to squeeze his shoulder.

"We will confer with you shortly," she told him, nodding at his instruction to administer the antidote. "Because you are capable of this."

With a slow exhale once he'd gone to tend to the announcement, she turned to confer with her husband, only to discover that he had already moved to do the same. Why this had to be done in a whisper confused her, though - until she realized what he was saying. She froze when nothing came after 'in the end', horrified at the implication. That couldn't be true, could it? He would survive this, wouldn't he?

She was still trapped within the refusal to accept such a thing when Robert told her to give her the antidote. It happened neither quickly nor at all, as all she managed to do was stare with a hazy confusion at the vial in her hands, sluggishly trying to parse what he wanted her to do with it.

Which probably did very little to disprove Harrison's skepticism.

"Yes...?" Her quiet, audibly perplexed answer was thankfully reaffirmed and expanded on when Robert spoke up, allowing her to consider the meaning of '******** trophy' in this context. Or any context. Growing increasingly more lost as this went on, she pulled the vial close to her, holding it protectively against her chest.

"Her name is Alice," she grumbled, in a way that suggested that should have explained everything. "Your concern is appreciated, but she is important to m--to someone. I can help. I can heal. I am more than my predisposition to destruction."

She glanced up at Harrison and tried to clarify the circumstances of her choice.

"I will not be very advantageous to you - or anyone - if I irreparably harm her. I will have failed one of my greatest tasks and the directive of my superior." The vial shifted in her hand as she held it like a lifeline. "If I make the conscious decision to withhold the single method of helping her...at the present, I cannot make the distinction between this and any other harmful action. I do not have enough time to learn it now. It will have to wait. Helping her cannot."

Harrison scratched his jaw. "I guess," he allowed. "Alice. So this is part of your Wonderland thing." More aspie s**t. It probably made sense to her.

"Well, like Robert said. Probably better sooner than later. Not sure how long this place is going to be horizontal." He looked over at where he knew the collapsed part of the ice rink was.

He couldn't see it from here. The ice rink was floodlit in the middle, but everything else was in the wet or dark.

"******** Finn, get it." There was a note of appreciation to her voice as she watched him slashing at the big zombie's body, and she let out a low whistle before turning her attention to Milo and Oliver. They were frustrated, but they seemed fine otherwise, so far. Even with the continued attacks from infected, the lights and the water, things were going remarkably well.

Something was bound to go wrong. That was just how s**t worked around here.

Probably better to have eliminated their current lumbering foe before that. As soon as Finn's spear as ripped free of the things stomach the Sun was streaking in, not to defend this time, but to finish the job. They'd battered it, they'd spilled it's insides in a gory wash across the floor, and it kept moving. Using a nearby CD rack for leaverage, the tiny girl jumped up onto the things shoulders, bringing both daggers down into the top of the infected's head. Like stabbing a watermelon...

It continued forward for a second or two, then teetered forward before collapsing into a bleeding, disgusting heap at the boys' feet, Peyton bouncing off at the last second.

A finger was extended to Finn, cocked and fired like a gun as she smiled at him. "Double tap."

HP: 49
DMG: 16
CHG: 3/3

Target HP: Deadsies

It was the child who piped up, for the first time since they'd reached the ice rink. She sounded perturbed at the discretion, and despite her ears being covered, heard his mistake perfectly well. "FOUR." She called out to him with a smile, holding up four of her fingers. She'd just learned how to count to ten, and knew exactly where her age was on that scale. She was not six. She was four.

And this was important.

"I'd rather have a six year old than this entire room right now." Robert grumbled, a little miffed that the lives of children ranked so low on Harrison's radar. But he was entitled to his opinion, even if Robert disagreed - so he waved it off, and shook his head. "But it shouldn't have to be a choice. If we can save everyone, if there's even a chance - we've got to try. We think this is the best decision. But uh, you know. Thanks for your input, I guess."

He didn't really mean that. He was transparent enough for that to be clear.

Harrison was right about one thing. They were running out of time. He turned the girl so her arm fell limp at her side, exposed to Mimsy. Then he held her face in his free hand, and his expression came alive with joy. "Hey, you. I didn't know you were four! How old do you think I am?" He asked, at which point her face crunched up in tense, determined thought. She hadn't learned to count that high, yet. "Ummm... old." She answered, satisfied with this assumption. He laughed, his head tilting up into the air. "You got me! I'm super old. I'm like six of you, all stacked up in years. Can you even imagine it?"

She couldn't. He was talking crazy. There was no number that high. The giant man made her laugh, though, so she forgave him for his temporary insanity.