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"Only cuz you turned me the ******** down! You had the first chance at it. We had this conversation."

It seemed like this might be a standoff that would last a while.

"So what? You know how s**t my damage is. If you let up I'll do the exact amount of damage I've been doing to you, which is ******** zero. You're the one swinging, dumbass."

But Harrison had a lot of patience.

"I...look, I'm not clever. I'm not Jordan. I don't want you dead. It's the same for me. If you go, I..."

HP: 54
DEF: Self
CHG: 3/3
Total Defends: 9

It seemed that Lucky had found the nerve to dare to respond to her, and Mimsy's attention snapped back towards him, acknowledging his existence once again.

"Is that honestly the best argument that you can offer? You have no idea what lengths we have gone through to keep you alive," she spat, yanking irritably on the 'leash' to pull Robert closer to Lucky. "You have no idea what I have sacrificed for you. You have no idea what I have done to prevent your absence. You have no idea how difficult it has been without you. You have no idea what danger I have placed myself in to ensure your safety. And you have no idea how many hours I have spent pleading for your return - you surely must not, if this is how you choose to act."

By the time she had finished speaking, she was close enough to get a very good glimpse of his distorted form. A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of her lips, pleased, present for a half second at best, before the look of indignation returned.

"No one else would have done what I have done for you. No one. Robert trusted my judgment, which is why you are here at all, yet you cannot trust my judgment in return. After all that I have done! If that is insane, if insanity is what kept you alive--" She snatched up his left hand, and pressed her thumb as firmly as she could against the scar there. "You should be grateful. You should reassess your definition of sanity, because you owe your existence to my sanity, Szczesony. Perhaps my next brother will not be so unsatisfactory."

Each stressed word was accompanied by another painful jab with her thumb, until she flung his hand away from her, gave him a lengthy, furious glare, and went right back to ignoring him again.

"Yes. We need help," she finally called back, tone distracted as she busied herself with adjusting her grip on the scarf. "Oh, everything is terrible. Just entirely, inconceivably terrible. I require someone much more capable than I."

She swallowed past an involuntary gagging sound that reflexively followed such a statement, and glanced towards Robert again.

"I simply do not know what I will do if I should lose him."

HP: 34

-- REP IS INFECTED WITH THE PARANOIA VIRUS --

Harrison's stab knocked him back and almost knocked him off his feet. It left him staggered and dazed, giving the other man a wide eyed fearful look. It really was true, all of it, all the things he'd said. Everything he'd said about protecting him, about keeping him safe and him being irreplaceable. It had all been a lie.

He just wanted to hurt everyone, to attack until there was nothing left at all, until no one could look at him, no one could hurt him, until he was as alone as he'd always really been.

When he swung this time there was deep desperation and grief in his movements, he always did this s**t. Had anything ever been real?

HP: 14
DMG: 6
Target: Harrison

Well, that was the most listless call for help she'd ever heard. Nora was starting to wonder if it was sarcasm and what kind of soul thought that was a joke right now, but she grew distracted when she actually saw where the voice was coming from.

A man collared by a scarf, another man who almost looked like he wasn't fully there, and a woman who seemed to embody science. Bloody science.

Nora passed Cee a flat what glance before turning to science with raised brows. "Yes, I think I see the issue. You, er, got a little something there, mate," she said to the giant, gesturing at her mouth. "Shouldn't you be knocking him out before he gets too hungry? Seems to be the happy trend here now that we've got shots to fix them up."

His attention turned with each new voice - when Lucky yelled, Robert tugged in his direction. When Mimsy returned fire, Robert leaned back, trying to get to her with his snapping teeth. And when Nora started to talk to them, Robert's head lolled in her direction, in a slow and eerie movement. He stared at her uncomfortably, opened his mouth until his jaws were at their maximum, and leaned towards her as hard as he could.

And why yes, he did have a little Mimsy there, but he didn't seem concerned about looks at that moment.

A substantial amount of slack was allowed on the scarf when Mimsy noted the approach of someone else, who she assumed to be the one who had answered her call for assistance. She abruptly clutched the scarf again when she actually turned to look at them, however - this was a woman, who possessed an objectively higher level of physical attractiveness than she did, who was an objectively better meal than she was, and the idea of feeding her to Robert was no longer very appealing.

"He is already quite hungry, which is in fact the issue itself. Your observational error is forgivable, considering the brevity that was necessary for you to make an assessment in such a short period of time." The words came out as scarcely a mutter, and she continued to appear distracted, as if something was somehow more important than the impending zombie apocalypse.

The hand not attached to her infected husband had disappeared into her pocket, and her fingers toyed with the handle of the scissors there, indecisive and anxious. Another woman. Could she really allow him to eat another woman?

"I promised that I would feed him. I promised that he could eat. I am a good wife. I am the best wife." Her gaze was distant as she stared past her, and her body relaxed, returning to its listless state of refusal to fight.

HP: 34

The slack was relieving, and Robert almost fell to his knees when it came like a breath of fresh air. He whined, but it was a pleased sound, as he glared down the blob that stood there, waiting for him to attack. A motionless target. A waiting meal.

He took a step, lurching closer. And stopped.

There was so little brain activity left in his mind. So little actually processing, understanding, reacting. He could only feel the hunger, the need to consume, and follow its whim with whatever moved in front of him.

Except.

She had held him captive. She'd kept him from so many delicious, warm, blood gushing meals. She'd choked him until he was hers to command, and she stood there now, beside him still. Robert's eyes, putrid green and bloodshot from choking, blinked as a single thought surpassed the hunger for one momentary second.

Revenge was the sweetest dish.

He turned on Mimsy, roaring as he knocked her to the ground, pinning her arms and legs until he was sure she had no more control over him anymore. All his other potential meals were tuned out, in place of this one, most important desire.

"Eat." He reminded her, his sickening grin cocking until it was too wide, too open, too ready.

He came down upon her without mercy, groaning at the sudden taste of blood and the all too temporary satisfaction.