"Well, how do you know that you're immune?" she asks, after a short and intensely surprised silence befalls them. "How can you possibly know that?"
He holds back from rolling his eyes and doesn't reply except to pull at the collar of his shirt until his entire right shoulder is exposed. There, Maka traces the bumps of not one, but two faintly visible bite marks residing on the skin there. "O-oh." She pales and takes a step back.
"Relax, nerd. If I was one of them I'd be trying to eat you already."
"B-but… how?"
He shrugs. "Heck if I know. I guess it's just one of those things. In my blood." He sighs and flicks his cigarette to one side. I guess I should consider myself lucky. But… I mean, they can still kill me. They just can't turn me into one. So all it really means is that I have a little longer to play with if I ever do get caught." He pauses in his speech and gives her a look. "Which… doesn't happen often."
She bites her lip and he lets go of his collar. "Can't imagine what it must have been like when you got bitten. You must have been so nervous."
"Well, yeah." He waves a hand, and Maka gets a strong sense that he doesn't want to speak about it.
She's curious about something which occurs to her. "If your blood is immune, then doesn't that mean…!"
"The cure? Relax. I'm fairly certain that whatever is keeping me from being turned, it's genetic. There's no magical cure in my blood, or whatever. Besides…" he stares grimly out of the window as he speaks. "Have you seen them, recently? There's no way a 'cure' exists. They're too far gone. That virus, it totally melts your brain."
"Well, don't you think that it could protect those of us who are still human, then?"
"I'd need to find someone who really understand how it works, and they're all dead."
"Th-that's not necessarily the case-"
"It is." He spits, suddenly angry.
"Well… sorry." She eventually says after a protracted silence, his shouted words ringing off the walls around them.
"It's fine," he mutters, a little embarrassed. He blows smoke out his mouth, politely turning away from Maka to do so.
"If you really believe everyone is dead," she wonders, pausing. "How have you managed to stay sane in all that time?"
"I didn't, always," he regards her a little warily, thinking hard about what she's just said. "It'd been about a year for you, huh? Is that what that was? Me finding you, without any guns, nothing… was that suicide?"
She shakes her head and swallows. "W-well, no." she stutters. "I just… I lost my mind. I'm not so sure I've found it yet, to be honest with you."
"Lost your mind?"
"Started to hallucinate." She clarifies, figuring that she might as well be honest with him, if they were the last two people left in the world. "…my cat started talking to me…"
He splutters but to her immense surprise, he doesn't laugh. Instead, he looks wide-eyed at her and frowns. "What did the cat look like?"
"Uh… nothing special. Just a black cat…"
"What did it say?"
She frowns, trying to remember. "Something about… something about its… her name. I can't remember, sorry. I was kinda bugging out, at the time. It asked for… some cream, maybe?" she shakes her head. "Jeez, why does it matter? It was in my head. I'm not crazy, you know. I just… I've been on my own for so long."
He scratches his head. Maka's struggling to read his facial expression, but it's clear that he's hiding something. "Your cat, huh?" he seems deep in thought. "Back at the place you were staying at?"
She looks at him blankly. "Um. Yes… why?"
He clears his throat and stands up. "I think we should get out of here." He turns away from her and picks up a green army jacket from the floor beside him. "Quickly."
She's not used to it, not by a long shot. Having someone around, again. It's been a whole year since she's even interacted with another human and about two since it was someone competent; someone who wasn't going to get her killed at the drop of a hat.
Beggars couldn't be choosers, but she can't help but wish for more entertaining company,
Surly and mysterious, those were two words which summed up Soul in a nutshell. He still got fidgety whenever she asked about his past and had yet to provide her with any substantial information about where he was planning to go, either.
It was as if he didn't fully trust her, something she doesn't really hold against him. They'd both been to some strange and bad places in this new world, seen things that you couldn't easily forget. It was hard to trust anybody fully, these days.
And… well, he'd been right about hanging out in a supermarket. This really was the comfortable life.
Take right now, for example. Yesterday she'd been unconscious, getting scoured by fifty-off zombies and today she's scoffing prawn cocktail flavoured crisps with her feet dangling off the edge of the five-storey staircase.
Soul hangs behind her a little way, heating his hands up on his gas stove- currently bubbling over with water for, as far as she can see, a pot of pudding rice. She finds her gaze lingering on him for a little while longer than necessary, sizing him up now that she's no longer starving nor in immediate danger.
The first things that stick out about him are the red eyes, the razor sharp teeth- and of course, the ivory hair. He's got a formidable exterior, that's for sure, but she can't help but think it suits him- in a rugged sort of way.
He catches her staring and sends her a strange look.
"What?" he glares a little and she recoils. "I'm just making rice." He snaps. "There was none of the normal stuff left, only this gloopy crap." He demonstrates the undesirable texture as he wrestles to get the stuff from sticking onto the wooden spoon.
"You know, you're kind of scary looking," she tells him, in what she hopes in an informative manner.
He scowls deeper and concentrates harder on his rice. "Just what every boy dreams of hearing."
She realises too late that she's managed to offend him again and she tries to backtrack almost immediately. "Oh… no. I don't mean… you're not ugly. You're the opposite of that. You're handsome…? I mean, isn't it good to look scary, especially these days… I mean, what am I…?"
"Stop talking," he interrupts her and she's actually grateful.
"Sorry," she says quietly and the glimmer of a smirk appears on his features. "What?!" she squawks in indignation at his clear amusement. "It's not funny!"
"Were you always like this, or was it the isolation?" he asks. His tone is so laid-back that it takes her a second or two to even clock that he's insulting her.
Go figure.
"What are you doing with that?" she points at his rice, changing the subject, and he blinks, surprised by the rapid about-turn in stone. Leaning behind him somewhat, he pulls out a green, flat packet of something.
"I'm making sushi. I found nori in one of the stock cupboards. Apparently whoever raided this place didn't realise it was food."
She snorts. "Don't blame them. It's hardly food." Maka frowns. "Why go through the trouble? There's loads of instant food…"
Soul shrugs and turns the heat off the stove, stirring once more for good measure. "I've always found that when you're travelling alone for a long period, the little things keep you sane," he says in a quiet tone. He's met with silence, only broken by the tearing of his nori wrapper.
"Pity there's no sashimi," Maka smiles, a little struck by Soul's sudden soft side. "You could always try your luck fishing…"
"I've no idea if the lakes are infected or not. I'd wager yes. I've no idea if this virus is even airborne, though I doubt it- considering that you're still you, and not a brainless killing machine." He pops a wrapped rice roll into his mouth and makes a face. "Hmm…" he fingers the packet of nori, clearly searching for an expiry date. "Not bad. Not great either."
"Is that right? Can I try some?"
"Sure thing. Grab a sheet and just wrap it around the rice, like this…" he starts to explain but she makes a face at him.
"I'm half Japanese, I know how to do it," she grumbles, and then snorts at his over-offended huff. "Sorry, sorry." She grimaces at him. "I guess I'm not used to… just hanging out, like this."
Soul smiles like it couldn't possibly matter and scratches his head. "You know, it's been about a week since I've actually had a bath."
"A week!" she squeaks, envious. "I don't even remember the last time I cleaned myself," she admits, a little embarrassed. "How do you…?"
"Ah, um. There's a lake a few hours from here. I can take you today, if you want."
Maka's heart thuds in her chest and she frowns. "No, I really can't… I don't want to be outside. Not after what happened,"
"Relax," he shrugs. "I can protect you."
Maka has absolutely no reason to trust him when he says that- but something about the confidence in his tone convinces her to agree, albeit with a little flicker of nerves in her chest.
