( Mia doesn't know how to answer him at first. She's still processing the fact she was on her derriere in the rain, wearing galoshes, with what was once inside someone's head now splattered on half her face, her right side, and a nice chunk of something that might have hair on her foot.
She's staring at that with wide eyes when he's leaning over her.
What is going on?! She wants to repeat the question out loud, but the pounding of her heart and the constriction in her throat makes that difficult.
Mia slowly looks up to Sharpe... and swallows. )
I've been in the office all day.
( If it's a bit squeaky and vaguely defensive, that has a lot to do with not being able to fully process any of this as real right now. )
I'm sorry, but -- ( Now is her mental cue to move, and she starts by rolling her ankle of the foot carrying a piece of -- no, she wouldn't think on that -- hoping to dislodge what was on there.
It didn't move.
In fact, as she stood, still not finishing her statement until she'd gotten to her very undignified feet, she tried getting it off her foot again. For the moment avoiding looking at the headless corpse spending a great deal of time chilling with them, Mia focuses her attention on Sharpe as she slams the toe of her rainboot down on the ground. ) -- are you meaning to tell me we're suffering an invasion of the walking dead.
( For someone who channels ghosts, that's... )
We're in the future, not the middle of a horror movie set.
( There's a dead man at your feet Mia and they were made that way by Sharpe, this is really just like -- okay, so that thought has her looking at the dead guy.
Oh.
Oh that is...
That is a rotting arm.
That jogger that she ran into and that tried jumping her had a significantly rotting arm.
And he wasn't bleeding... he was congealing. )
Oh god.
( Stumbling back and away, one hand coming up to her mouth because she feels her stomach disagreeing very strongly with her toast from this morning right about now. )
Oh god, you shot a dead man.
( Her hand comes away from her mouth with some of the gross bits that had been on her face, and Mia has to literally fight to keep from having her knees give out on her. It's not that this is her usual mode of operating, but this? The dead possessed, certainly, if they could; the dead lied, felt, did everything but live since they were beyond that part of the big picture.
But they weren't supposed to be back in their decomposing bodies trying to run about town causing -- causing the goddamn reinvention of the horror genre! )
no subject
She's staring at that with wide eyes when he's leaning over her.
What is going on?! She wants to repeat the question out loud, but the pounding of her heart and the constriction in her throat makes that difficult.
Mia slowly looks up to Sharpe... and swallows. )
I've been in the office all day.
( If it's a bit squeaky and vaguely defensive, that has a lot to do with not being able to fully process any of this as real right now. )
I'm sorry, but -- ( Now is her mental cue to move, and she starts by rolling her ankle of the foot carrying a piece of -- no, she wouldn't think on that -- hoping to dislodge what was on there.
It didn't move.
In fact, as she stood, still not finishing her statement until she'd gotten to her very undignified feet, she tried getting it off her foot again. For the moment avoiding looking at the headless corpse spending a great deal of time chilling with them, Mia focuses her attention on Sharpe as she slams the toe of her rainboot down on the ground. ) -- are you meaning to tell me we're suffering an invasion of the walking dead.
( For someone who channels ghosts, that's... )
We're in the future, not the middle of a horror movie set.
( There's a dead man at your feet Mia and they were made that way by Sharpe, this is really just like -- okay, so that thought has her looking at the dead guy.
Oh.
Oh that is...
That is a rotting arm.
That jogger that she ran into and that tried jumping her had a significantly rotting arm.
And he wasn't bleeding... he was congealing. )
Oh god.
( Stumbling back and away, one hand coming up to her mouth because she feels her stomach disagreeing very strongly with her toast from this morning right about now. )
Oh god, you shot a dead man.
( Her hand comes away from her mouth with some of the gross bits that had been on her face, and Mia has to literally fight to keep from having her knees give out on her. It's not that this is her usual mode of operating, but this? The dead possessed, certainly, if they could; the dead lied, felt, did everything but live since they were beyond that part of the big picture.
But they weren't supposed to be back in their decomposing bodies trying to run about town causing -- causing the goddamn reinvention of the horror genre! )