As if by clockwork, or very careful planning, he returns at exactly half an hour from when he set off. While he's gone, Maka cycles through thinking that she must be in a dream, to thinking that she's lost her mind, to believing in her white-haired captor again, to thinking that she's dreaming again.
It's a little exhausting after the fourth time she's changed her mind, so when he rears his head again she's a little relieved that she has a definitive answer.
"You're back." she tells him sullenly, unsure even herself why she feels so cranky. "Where did you go," she asks, tonelessly.
"Hunting," he replies gruffly, before presenting an unidentifiable carcass of meat to her. He's not unlike a cat, proudly showing it's owner a bird it's caught in the back yard.
"You already skinned it?" she asks, genuinely curious and a little impressed. "That was fast. It takes me a while, usually."
"Oh, uh…." He shrugs. "I'm good with knives," he gives her a grimace, showcasing a mouthful of razor-sharp pearly whites. Despite herself, Maka takes a hissed gasp in through her teeth.
"Y-your teeth!" she exclaims.
Any trace of mirth on his face disappears quickly and he covers his mouth with his hand. "Sorry," he mutters furtively. "Born like it."
She realises with a little jolt that this strange albino boy in front of her that skins rabbits in under 20 minutes and undoubtedly saved her life from a hoard of zombies just so happens to be self-conscious. "Uh, well. It suits you."
He snorts derisively as if he couldn't possibly believe this and begins to chew on a small lump of meat he picks off from the carcass, staying careful to keep his teeth out of sight.
Maka reaches over to grab some and he stops her.
"Let me cook it first," he insists.
She wonders why he didn't mind so much when it came to his own meal but decides not to ask the question. He already seems so irritated by her chattiness; and far be it from her to piss off the only person she's spoken to in about a year.
They silently watch eat chunk of ambiguous meat sizzle in the makeshift cooking receptacle as he throws them in, one by one. It's more awkward than it should be; Maka notices. She wonders why. When the world had essentially ended, why should social niceties matter to anyone?
"So, uh." She begins to ask, breaking the ice. "What's your story, then?"
He shrugs. "It's not important."
She feels a surge of anger rise up inside her and scowls at him. "You're the first person I've actually had the chance to talk to in a year and it's not important? Who the hell do you think you are?!" she rants. "You have no idea how lonely it's been. You have no idea how long I've… how long I've…" she begins to lose her speech a bit as a big lump of emotion forms in her throat. "Why did you even rescue me if you aren't interested in company?"
Soul seems a little taken aback by the question and even has the good grace to look abashed, but he's not entirely sure how to answer her. "Sorry," he mutters. "Look, my background isn't… it's not something I want to talk about." He pauses, feeling the heavy tension hanging in the air and trying awkwardly to smooth it over. "Why don't you just tell me about you, for now."
Maka sighs and unintentionally rolls her eyes a little. "Well, for starters… my name's Maka. Maka Albarn, daughter of Spirit and Kami… I'm from Maryland, originally. I was visiting some friends in Colorado when… when it happened. I've been stuck here ever since. I didn't much fancy travelling around," she muses. It's odd, recounting her life like this. It doesn't come naturally to her. "I've basically survived from hopping from home to home and not looking back."
"Ok…"
"I was with a group of people, for a while. They all got turned. Now, it's been a year." She says bluntly.
Soul nods vaguely. "I know that story," he shudders, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and placing one in his mouth. Maka mouth quirks sideways and she gives him a look.
"You're smoking indoors?"
He looks blankly back at her and then around at his surroundings; the Wal-Mart now decrepit and covered with ivy and moss. She has to laugh. "Okay, good point."
"You want one?"
Maka doesn't usually smoke, but given everything that's happened in the last 48 hours, she finds herself reaching over and taking one from him.
"Thanks," she takes a lighter out of his outstretched hand and fumbles around with it with her thumb for a few seconds, failing to light her cigarette. "Can you tell I don't do this often?"
He obligingly reaches over and lights it for her. "Now breathe in," he instructs. "There."
Maka barely holds back her cough and Soul laughs. "Didn't think I'd be the one indoctrinating somebody else into this anytime. I don't do it so much now, but I used to…" he glazes over, and Maka can see he's far away. "Anyway. You were telling me about you." He corrects.
"That's it."
"That's not it," he frowns. "Who were you?" he waits a second, and when she looks blankly back at him, he makes a face. "Occupation, likes, dislikes… hobbies…"
"Maka Albarn…" she screws up her nose and tries to think back to who she was before she was just nothing, survivor#203. "Uh… I was a waitress, at an Italian restaurant. I was studying for my Law exams. I liked running, and tennis. I liked books, and libraries."
"You wanna tell me how some scrawny book-happy Law student survived three years of this post-apocalyptic wasteland?"
Maka rolls her eyes and folds her arms self-consciously over her chest, glaring at him. "To hell with you!" she scowls. "I don't need to stay here if you're going to be a colossal ass."
He shrugs and looks down at his lap, taking in a big gulp of smoke and exhaling through his nostrils. "I've got a point, don't I?"
"I was… a runner. And my dad… was a bit of a survivalist. I grew up in a rural area; he was forever teaching me how to live in the woods, how to live off the fat of the land, how to shoot and how to hunt," she shakes her head. "That's how I survived." She scowls at him. "How did some… weird Shark-tooth emo kid manage to survive the virus, then?"
He laughs at her feeble attempt at insulting him and leans back onto a nearby bed. "Well, that's a more easily answered question." He takes a drag, leaving her in suspense while she waits for his answer. "I'm immune."
