Gwen takes a chance.

Gwen looks at you with a strange expression on her face. The flashlight she holds flits over your figure a few times, and you hear her take a deep breath.

"You look like a good man." She says factually. Her mouth takes on a slight smile. "I don't think there are that many of you left."

"There weren't that many of us to begin with." you say in response.

This elicits a bitter laugh from Gwen, who takes a few steps closer to you. Her features are now very close, and you can see every detail in the dim light. She drops her eyes slightly, then looks back into your face.

"I don't suppose..." she lets off the statement. She looks a little uncertain.

On an impulse, you pull the gun from your pocket, and offer it to her, butt first. Your hand is steady, and you wonder what in god's name you're thinking.

"If you think I'm a bad man, I suggest you take this gun and pull the trigger." You speak slowly and cautiously, realizing that there is a time when you have to trust. Gwen looks at the gun, reaches out her hand to take it, and then aborts the action. She looks into your eyes, and drops her flashlight. She steps forward, her arms outstretched.

You feel her warmth, as she collapses against your chest. Her arms encircle you, and she hugs you tightly. You note with some distraction the tears that are beginning to soak your shirt. Her body is wracked by sobs, as you slowly lower yourself to the floor. She follows you to the ground, and holds you tightly, very afraid, but at the same time comforted by your presence.

"There's so few women...." she says, sobbing. You are a bit puzzled by the statement, but hold her tightly as she continues to cry. The tears eventually stop, and you look carefully into her eyes. There is no fear of you in them, but definate fear of something else.

"The virus," She begins, now cradled in your arms. "It killed everyone, but for some reason, more men than women survived. About ten to one. I managed to get together with a few girls who had survived, but we were found yesterday by one of the roving gangs." She shudders at the thought. "A few of us managed to get away, without any incident and take shelter in the department store. Earlier today, four of us decided to go searching for supplies. I've already told you the rest...." She is sobbing desperately now, and the slight comfort that you give her doesn't seem to help much.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "For all of you, I'm sorry." You mean the words, because you know what kind of animals men can become devoid of law. You have a fleeting image of Gwen and her friends running, from a large group of men.

"We've all given up." She says softly. "And then I saw you, and just had to take a chance. If it came down to me hating all men on sight I don't think I could live." She looks up into your eyes, and a small hope appears there.

You aren't certain what to do. You could offer to take Gwen with you, when you escape. It would be nice to have her around, and she seems to be a little smitten with you. However, her friends could probably use the help you could give, and offering would definately put you high in all of their favor.