Snippet #1995143

Of course Jet wanted him to put down his weapon. Of course Jet was looking at him sternly, as if he was the one who'd broken into their hidey-hole and drawn a weapon on someone who'd had their back, found them food. It was a matter of pride more than anything, and Trent seethed. He didn't even really have a problem with them being extended an offer. The sisters were obviously not going to be dead weight. The older one was fast, faster than he was, and the younger, small as she was, would probably make an ideal scavenger. It was all about the way it was handled, as if he were somehow in the wrong for ending up in a stand-off with a pair who might well have merrily traipsed in and murdered the lot of them before they could get to their feet.

"This is some bullshit," he declared, but he sort of... flicked his wrist, moving his hand from the gun's stock to wrap around the barrel halfway up. He peeled away, cutting back towards where he'd been intending to bed down and collecting the few things he cared to take with him; less than his share of food and water, and his other weaponry. He didn't say another word before storming out through the store's front door. He had the decency to check and make sure he wouldn't be drawing any infected toward them in his exit, but otherwise, he'd had enough of the sharing and caring crowd. The hell if he was going to get killed because of anyone's stupidity but his own.

If anyone bothered to follow, he'd already be gone, out of sight, and giving chase or calling after him would basically be inviting the infected in.