ticktockgrin: (hrm)
[personal profile] ticktockgrin
It's funny how the end of the world hasn't changed things all that much, in some ways. In some ways, everything is different, but in others? Dwayne can look around and feel like nothing's changed at all.

Like now, creeping through the woods looking for booby traps and snipers. That's the same old, same old, and he huffs a small sigh before dragging in another breath. Stale cigarette smoke, gunpowder, rotting leaves and body odor. Lovely. He grimaces and casts a sidelong glance at his partner, gesturing a straight line to indicate where the strongest scents are coming from.

And funny how that hasn't changed, either. Nearly twenty years, no, and he still can't get rid of Frank. The bastard has outlasted all of Dwayne's marriages together, and is only slightly less terrifying in a fight than the Harpy. That's got to count for something, he supposes, and Dwayne slows to cover behind the trees as he looks at Frank again and murmurs quietly, "Three different scents. All at least a day old. They don't patrol this far, probably just a stop point."
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ticktockgrin

September 2016

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