"God, you're such an asshole." Kira picks the bottle back up, cradling it in both hands and leaning his head back against that same wall. Another tremor runs through the village, shaking shelves, loosening dust from planks above. He can hear the already spilled supplies and utensils rattling over the kitchen floor. Eyes closed, he's back on his cot in the old gymnasium, trying to sleep through the pass of armored cars in the night.
It didn't matter what side they were on: they were the only thing moving out there, and in Manhattan, that was wrong.
Not that any of it fucking happened.
At least he isn't alone down here, even if it's at something like Karen's expense. He doubts it: Karen can handle herself. They were fine before Frank. They were--slightly less complicated, maybe. Kira takes another drink as the shaking stops. "I don't have anybody here," he says--shouldn't say, really. He has people, kind of, just not the way Karen and Frank have each other, or the group of assholes who think a big purple alien did this to them. "I can fly right off the rails at any time. I can fall in a ravine and get eaten by those stupid crocodile dogs. She cares about you, you stupid fuck. You owe her; figure it out."
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It didn't matter what side they were on: they were the only thing moving out there, and in Manhattan, that was wrong.
Not that any of it fucking happened.
At least he isn't alone down here, even if it's at something like Karen's expense. He doubts it: Karen can handle herself. They were fine before Frank. They were--slightly less complicated, maybe. Kira takes another drink as the shaking stops. "I don't have anybody here," he says--shouldn't say, really. He has people, kind of, just not the way Karen and Frank have each other, or the group of assholes who think a big purple alien did this to them. "I can fly right off the rails at any time. I can fall in a ravine and get eaten by those stupid crocodile dogs. She cares about you, you stupid fuck. You owe her; figure it out."