NOT shoot me. She runs away though.

“You’re making a mistake,” Scarlet warns, but she’s lowering her gun. Apparently, without you outright attacking her, she’s not willing to shoot you. “A huge mistake.”

“Just get out of here, Scarlet!” There’s so much blood on your hands now that you can see the steam rising from them. Alexandra will die soon if you can’t get this stop. You knew Scarlet well enough that her marksmanship directed her exactly where she wanted to shoot. Why, though?

“You’re going have to run. We got some unwanted company heading this way, and they could be here any time now.” Scarlet says, backing away. “Good luck, Warren.”

Scarlet turns heel and runs out of the house, leaving you alone with Alexandra, who now curses Scarlet between spits of fits and painful moaning. “Oh, my fucking—?! Christ! Christ, please help! I don’t want to die!”

You start to desperately tourniquet her wound, but it makes her wail even louder. Whatever visitors Scarlet mentioned are bound to hear this, so you lift Alexandra up and then her backpack. “We have to run.”

Alexandra whimpers. “It hurts too much.”

“Just stay awake and hang on to me,” you say. “Think of something nice.”

She mumbled, hugging on to you as you lifted her bridal style. This somehow felt wrong, but as soon as you broke out into the outside world again, you pushed aside all thought and rushed towards the direction you deemed safest.

Your lungs burned, and your arms screamed as your muscles threatened to give out. Alexandra, in the meantime, held onto you and actually encouraged you to keep going until the sky was becoming dark blue and Arrowhead was far behind you. As your body finally broke down, you collapsed into a pile of snow beside Alexandra.

Alexandra scrambled, rushing to your aid. You felt her hands rub the back of your neck, icy cold and discomforting to the touch. You rolled to your back and heaved. In the dark morning beginnings, Alexandra managed to stick out like an angel… you blinked, fighting a smile. She was no Astrid.

“Warren,” Alexandra began. “I’m sorry, but we have to keep going. We’ll die out here otherwise.”

“I…I can’t…” you huffed. “My legs are–? Along with everything else in my body. I need a break.”

Alexandra shoots a glance at her leg. You swallow. “How’s it look?”

“I’m not a doctor, but I can still feel it.” She grimaces. “I can’t believe Scarlet did that.”

You swallow, feeling your muscles ache at even the slightest movement. “I…I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry this all happened, though. What a fucked up situation.”

“TARFU,” Alexandra says, investigating her wound. “I owe you everything now. God only knows what could have happened to me if it weren’t for you. Thanks for… for all that back there.”

You looked at the forest ahead of you. “Don’t thank me yet. I could have just run us into an even worse place.”

She doesn’t answer. She’s looking at the forest too. Worry in her eyes. “Thanks, Warren. It’s more than any contractor has ever done for me.”

You’ve never heard her sound so sentimental. You close your eyes. “Just give me one more minute.”

…

…

When did it happen? You don’t know. You can’t remember. Your last memory was falling into an iced over and road and crushing Alexandra. She yelped in agony, but there was another voice you couldn’t recall in your blackout.

You find yourself on a bed, feeling warm but sore when you wake up. Then, you recognize the room you’re in and realize you’re back where you started with the rest of the Toymakers.

Your throat is dry, so you stir from your sheets and double-check for water. Someone has left you a glass of water which you gladly partake of, taking all its contents down with a single gulp.

The fuzziness fades, and you realize how fucked up the last 24 hours have been. You frown and glance down. You didn’t think it could get this out of hand. “Damn girls… Flora, you best be worth this trouble.”

Just as the last word sinks into the room, someone comes in. Low and behold, it’s Flora. Your eyes meet, and she retreats, leaving the door open just a crack. “Sorry,” she says. “Can I come in?”

It takes you a few seconds to come to the conclusion that you could use some different company. Precisely company that wasn’t a smuggler or a genuine member of the ARS. You clear your throat and nod gently.

Flora sits beside your bed and folds her hands together. “I’m sorry.”

You relax and then sigh. “About what?”

“Alexandra told us what happened,” Flora says quietly.

You nod. You aren’t sure whether or not she mentioned sleeping Scarlet or not, so you just remain silent for a second. “It was a shit show. How is she?”

“I did what I could, but she’s going to be out of action longer than you will be.”

“She’s the one always getting hurt out here, it seems. ” You say.

“It’s going to be weird without Scarlet. She was… nicer to me than Alexandra, and we got along sometimes.” Flora then looks at you. “There is a part of me that hopes she got away, but when I look at you, there’s a part of me that hopes she didn’t.”

“This isn’t the worst shape I've been in.”

Flora smiles and folds her hands on her lap. She keeps staring at you, though, wanting to say more. Has she missed you? When you look at her, you feel a slight tug in your heart. Then, finally, it clicks, and you realize all the pain and trouble you’ve had to deal with the last few days is worth the effort.

“You can talk to me, you know?”

Flora gets emotional. She shuts down while she shakes her head. “Can…” she trails off. “Can I make this about you?”

She looks deep into your eyes. “Don’t make this about me right now. Talk to me instead. What do you want to tell me?”

“A million things,” you say. “A million things and a million more.”

A small laugh escapes her mouth. “Let’s try five things.”

“Five things,” you mutter. “Five things to ask?”

“Yes,” she says, smiling a little bit as she leans in. “Tomorrow, we’ll make it ten things.”

“What’s the catch?” You ask.

“You have to ask those five things right now. Otherwise, I’ll half it the next time we’re alone,” she whispers this with a glance at the door. “It’s like spinning the bottle, but it’s just you and me.”

“Can you sing?” You ask.

Flora makes a face and shakes her head. “No.”

“Can you play any instruments?”

“I wanted to play the piano, but I’m no good at it,” Flora says.

“Have you tried making your own book?”

Again, she shakes her head. “Reading is more up my alley.”

“If you could either play or sing, which one would you do?”

Flora has to think for a second, but then she learns something new about herself. “I’d rather sing well. Last question.”

Your horse-like tongue almost slipped. You stop yourself and trail off with your original question and come up with something new. “Hot or cold?”

“Cold,” Flora then thinks about the outside. “Not THIS cold, though.”

You’re amused with her responses. “So, I get ten more of these questions the next time we’re talking?”

Flora opens her mouth to say something, but the door opens.