[ Sharpe looks at her wryly. She's keeping her calm better than most civilians he knows. Most people splattered by blood and gore tend to scream, even soldiers wearing uniforms. He grabs her arm - nothing can be done about the bits and pieces of what is once a person lying on her now, really - and he tugs her upwards, urging her to stand up. ]
I don't know what you mean by 'horror movie set', ma'am, but yer right. There's dead men walking 'round here.
[ He would be more surprised, really, but there's plenty of strange things that he's seen since he'd come here, so what's another one? At least this he knows how to deal with, because the answer lies in his rifle - it's an enemy, and he can shoot it. In fact, he should, because it looks like they're preying on people.
Sharpe has seen plenty of strange things in his life, but corpses preying on and wanting to eat the living is still something new. Still, it's no stranger than a woman wearing a short, plunging dress who isn't a whore, or a bunch of people call themselves imps and elves and whatever next while looking the part. ]
C'mon now, ma'am. You've got ta get out of the streets. There's more of 'em coming.
[ He probably shouldn't have said that. Sharpe looks up, and he sighs quietly when he sees another group of those shambling corpses. Good thing is that they move slow unless when jumping. Bad thing is, he only has a single damn rifle. At least he's not going to run out of shots. ]
Here, ma'am. [ He jerks his head towards a nearby alley. ] Get over there. Hide, and I'll take care of these bastards.
[ He doesn't check if she's obeying him. There's no time for that. Sharpe ducks underneath another awning, leaning against the wall as he brings his rifle to his front. The ritual is the same: tear the powder pack. Pour. Spit the ball in. Ramrod. He shoots. Repeats it three times because this time the group is a little smaller.
There's pieces of corpse on the streets. Sharpe gives a moment of pity to the poor bastards who have to clean it up tomorrow. And he looks over to Mia, wherever she is. ]
no subject
I don't know what you mean by 'horror movie set', ma'am, but yer right. There's dead men walking 'round here.
[ He would be more surprised, really, but there's plenty of strange things that he's seen since he'd come here, so what's another one? At least this he knows how to deal with, because the answer lies in his rifle - it's an enemy, and he can shoot it. In fact, he should, because it looks like they're preying on people.
Sharpe has seen plenty of strange things in his life, but corpses preying on and wanting to eat the living is still something new. Still, it's no stranger than a woman wearing a short, plunging dress who isn't a whore, or a bunch of people call themselves imps and elves and whatever next while looking the part. ]
C'mon now, ma'am. You've got ta get out of the streets. There's more of 'em coming.
[ He probably shouldn't have said that. Sharpe looks up, and he sighs quietly when he sees another group of those shambling corpses. Good thing is that they move slow unless when jumping. Bad thing is, he only has a single damn rifle. At least he's not going to run out of shots. ]
Here, ma'am. [ He jerks his head towards a nearby alley. ] Get over there. Hide, and I'll take care of these bastards.
[ He doesn't check if she's obeying him. There's no time for that. Sharpe ducks underneath another awning, leaning against the wall as he brings his rifle to his front. The ritual is the same: tear the powder pack. Pour. Spit the ball in. Ramrod. He shoots. Repeats it three times because this time the group is a little smaller.
There's pieces of corpse on the streets. Sharpe gives a moment of pity to the poor bastards who have to clean it up tomorrow. And he looks over to Mia, wherever she is. ]
You've got a place ta go?