It wasn't particularly well stocked, but there were enough supplies in the base to make it a passable living space. The abundance of bodies in the outpost was a matter of great concern to the both of them, so it was pretty nice to find a spot where there weren't any heavy corpses to lug out. It was cold, though; as the day started to wind down, it began to cool into downright uncomfortable levels. Lauren didn't really mind—well, she did, but by now had learned not to complain about the lack of heating in her living spaces. That usually earned a stern glare and a smack on the spine. Pen, though, had no compunctions about trying to fix the situation, and set off to find the generator and figure out why their portable heater wasn't working.

She had yet to come back.

Maybe Lauren should have gone with her.

Now that she wasn't drinking Union water, it was easier to remember herself without devolving into confused gibbering.

Before their occupation, she might've lived somewhere warm. It was always air conditioning that had been the problem, breaking down, freezing her arms. Now she was somewhere farther north where the weather liked to change on some whim of the malevolent forces that had taken over humanity's fate. When she grew used to the cold, the sun would burn the air, when she grew used to the heat, whole apartment blocks would freeze over.

But she'd take a desert over the Arctic Circle any day, honestly.

She was half to her feet when she heard a brief yelp, followed by the bars of the heater beginning to glow a burning red. This encouraged her to sit back down and wait more patiently. Pen returned after a while, a small instrument that looked like a tazer in her hand and her hair frizzed out in every direction that wasn't occupied by her face and neck.

"I got it running," was all she said.

"Oh. That's good." Lauren looked down at Ribby, stifling her snickers because that wouldn't be nice "I like your hair, by the way."

"Well good, I spent a lot of time on it this morning." Pen eased herself off her feet, on the opposite side of their heat source, the light playing off her bad complexion. "You feeling better?"

Right. Because she'd had a freak out moment back there. "No, I'm—I'm fine. Are you feeling better?"

Pen shrugged. "A little. I think it'd be nice to get some sleep. I didn't rest a whole lot back at the town. I had to keep an eye on the—Richard."

"The Richard."

"…Yes."

"That must have been boring."

"A little bit. I mean he—he didn't do anything strange, but he also seemed a bit…Cold. I think he shot that zombie just for the target practice." Pen looked down at her shoes, and Lauren wanted to say that she had the same feeling. "…We talked a little. He was pretty enthusiastic about his sniper rifle modifications. I talked a little bit about my-my family." She hesitated, then looked up with the red glare of bars in her eyes. "Do you think they're dead now?"

Lauren opened her mouth, closed it, and rolled the answer around in her mind. If not, they probably wished they were. …That was probably the wrong thing to say. "I wouldn't be hoping for anything else. Not with the Union involved."

"Right." Her face briefly contorted, and then she glanced up, expression blank. "Why do you call them that?"

"What, the Union?"

"Yeah."

"It's better than 'Our Benefactors', isn't it?" Pen looked at her blankly. "It's…never mind. I heard someone call it the Universal Union once, that's all."

"Really? That doesn't sound…I don't know, a little unpatriotic to call the source of everyone's problems the Union?"

Lauren gave her a flat stare. "America is dead."

"That's a bit defeatist."

"We were invaded by aliens."

"Touché."

"Anyway…" The heat was making her drowsy. Her lids flickered lazily over her eyes. "I think we need to sleep. It feels like tomorrow is going to be…stressful."

"There will probably be lots of running involved." Pen agreed. "I think I have a few ideas about our next move, though. Sleep on it."

"The only thing I'm sleeping on is this crappy mattress," Lauren muttered, curling up and hoping she fell unconscious before something came in to kill them. She almost had a heartattack when her chumtoad wriggled from his spot by her feet so he could nestle into her arms, but she made do.