"Aw, Francis, you do care," she said grinning. "You can turn around now. I'm clothed." She slid her bag over her back again and winced. "I'm ready when you are." The tank top was soft and brown, and wearing something clean made Poppy relax slightly, ridiculously.
He turned back around, an annoyed look on his face. "Obviously I care. I have enough common sense to care about the well-being of other people," he huffed, and began walking down the stairs.
She followed him, trying to avoid any contact with her bandage. She was still feeling fairly lightheaded, but being alive was a pleasurable experience despite the circumstances, and she couldn't find a reason to complain. "You're fond of me," she sang softly. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"No, it's touching," she said. They got to the bottom of the stairs, and Poppy put her hand on the door. "Or maybe I'm just delirious from blood loss and inches away from death. Who knows?"
"Of course I have friends," she said indignantly, following him into the wasteland. The wind blew her hair wildly around her face, and she squinted out across the horizon as she put it back in a ponytail. "They just aren't normally around me in circumstances like these."
Poppy's eyes narrowed in concern as she watched him struggle. She hesitated, and then took his arm, a gesture meant to soothe him and also to take charge. "Come on," she said gently, her voice low and soft. "Stay low." She looked around for a moment and saw a forest in the distance. Biting her lip, she made a quick decision and pulled him forward as kindly as she could. "This way." She wove through the rubble of the once impressive hallways, and she moved quickly and quietly, pausing every once in a while to look around for scouts. She kept her hand on his arm as she walked, almost as if she was worried that she would lose him if she let go.
"Those woods over there," she said quietly, ducking behind a large pillar. "It's a little ways away, but one we get under the cover of the trees, we should be a little safer, and we can come up with a plan."
"Yes, but after that. I can't seem to think of any probable outcomes," he said, deep in thought. "I don't know why."
She turned and studied him carefully, her grey eyes holding his gaze for a moment until she looked away. "That's.. Hmm. I'll run some tests when we get in there, okay? We've got to make sure you're okay."
"I don't think that's necessary. I'm sure it's just the dust messing with me," he denied, taking his arm back reluctantly.
"I'd imagine we'll have plenty of time for waiting when we get deep enough into the woods," she said, turning back to the task at hand. "We might as well." Her steps were deliberate, and she might have almost reminded Francis of a deer stepping into a clearing. Careful, thoughtful, and always aware of the hunters nearby. They kept at this pace for a while until they were maybe 100 yards from the woods. The trees loomed above them, dark and ominous, and Poppy glanced up, her eyes scanning the treeline. "Alright. Almost there. I think we're probably home free. On my count, we're going to make a run for it, okay?"
She frowned. She hadn't seen him leave the room with a bag, and she worried that perhaps the supplies he sought were no longer salvageable. "Do you remember where you left them?" she asked carefully. "Is there anything you think we need to go back for that I wouldn't have? I packed a lot of stuff."
"Only my weapons, which I'm sure you don't have, but we can live without them. Let's just keep going. It's nothing to worry about." He shifted to his other leg, a bit anxious to continue.
Poppy smiled. Something about the sentiment seemed to amuse her, but she didn't say anything more on the matter. "Alright. We're going to make a run for it. Keep low, and try not to make a big scene. On three. One.... Two... Three!"
Francis darted, running straight for the forest. Once, he was in the safety of the trees he turned around, looking for anything wrong.
