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<br/>
"Oh." There was a note of surprise in her voice at his admission he'd only been there a day. He acted as if he was right at home.<br/>
<br/>
But that was explained as he went on, revealing his previous relationship with the dark-haired woman, Idris, and his previous employment. She'd been right to think in the back of her mind that he seemed like he had something military about him. Maggie could tell, too, that he was very sincere about what he said. It made her want to trust Idris too to hear Kepler talk about her like he did.<br/>
<br/>
She didn't respond to this other than a lift of her brows and a thoughtful nod and hum, letting the new information settle in her mind as they reached the house; Maggie tied Areion to a post on the front porch, patting the gelding's neck and murmuring to him that she'd be right back.<br/>
<br/>
In truth she felt a little uneasy leaving her horse and following Kepler into a confined space, especially when she was pretty sure he could kill her embarrassingly easily. But if she wanted to stay here and if these were good people like she believed they were, then she'd have to get used to it.<br/>
<br/>
After a slight hesitation the woman followed Kepler up the steps of the porch and into the farmhouse, reaching instinctively to take her hat off before remembering it was already on her back. She looked around attentively as she was led further inside, to a kitchen; as the cabinet was opened she just stood there by the doorway, very much like a deer in the middle of the road.<br/>
<br/>
It was so strange, to see a house that was being lived in. And being lived in <i>normally</i>, not like the shell of a home that someone was squatting in for a little while, or a ransacked building with a front door that didn't shut right anymore.<br/>
<br/>
Maggie's eyes moved back to Kepler as he set out a bag with a few strips of jerky inside, then some boiled eggs from the fridge and some water. Then he gestured for her to take a seat and her gaze moved to the indicated chair, and for a moment she just stood and stared at it.<br/>
<br/>
...Good God, how long had it been since she sat in a chair?<br/>
<br/>
Slowly she stepped over and pulled the chair out, sinking into the seat as if she thought it would explode as soon as she put her weight on it. She tried not to shiver but the shudder was involuntary; why something so simple felt so horribly unnatural was hard to fathom, but she tried not to think too hard about it.<br/>
<br/>
She'd ransacked her fair share of houses, but she'd never really taken shelter in any for more than a couple hours during a storm -- or, in the first year, when she was with a group of other survivors. Even then, she'd never slept in an abandoned bed, or sat in an abandoned kitchen. It felt... sacrilegious, in a way. The only place she might've considered using like that was her own home, but that had been ashes and debris long before she got there.<br/>
<br/>
"Reckon so," she murmured with a nod as Kepler began speaking again, sitting across from her. She reached for the water, eyeing it for a moment before bringing it to her lips just as the ex-marine asked his first question.<br/>
<br/>
<i>How many humans have you killed since the Resurrection started?</i><br/>
<br/>
Maggie choked on the water, coughing and spluttering a bit as she swiftly lowered the bottle. She shot Kepler a resentful look across the table, brow furrowed and a slight frown on her lips as she cleared her throat. What kind of a question was that? Everyone had killed someone out there in that hellscape, or they'd been killed themselves. Was he <i>trying</i> to give her a PTSD attack?<br/>
<br/>
The woman opened her mouth to answer then shut it again, thinking better of her non-specific response and instead trying to figure a real answer. Her gaze slipped from one side to the other as she thought, mentally counting; her brow remained knit together, an uneasy look on her face as she tried to recall the instances as delicately as possible.<br/>
<br/>
The first one had been an accident. The woman had taken her by surprise, she hadn't meant to hurt her. The second had been on purpose, though it had happened in a fight for her life. The third, fourth, and fifth had begged her to kill them. The fourth only had one hand left when he grabbed her arm, screaming and begging for her to blow his head open so he wouldn't come back <i>one of them</i>. And she'd done it, she'd done it while her hands shook so hard she almost couldn't pull the trigger, eyes so blurry with tears that she probably would've missed him if he wasn't right in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
She could still smell it, she could hear it, feel it--<br/>
<br/>
Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, not realizing she was attempting to strangle the bottle of water with one hand while the other gripped her own knee so tight it hurt. Swallowing left her with the memory of a copper taste on her tongue, the metallic smell of it flooding her senses...<br/>
<br/>
With a roll of her shoulders and a brief shake, like someone shaking off rain, Maggie let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.<br/>
<br/>
"Seventeen," she finally answered in a low tone, opening her eyes slowly as she sighed, "Seventeen, I think. Give or take."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes were on the tabletop, body stiff as her grip on the water slackened once she became conscious of it. Seventeen people. Maybe more. <i>People</i>, not husks of humans stumbling around mindlessly. She'd killed a couple dozen Walkers and that was hard enough, but actually counting the living people whose lives she ended was a different kind of hard.<br/>
<br/>
Maggie pulled her gaze up to Kepler across the table, briefly looking as exhausted as she felt. "...It sucks," she rasped, too worn out to cry even though she kind of wanted to. "I hate it."<br/>
<br/>
Without Areion there as a buffer, she almost went on -- almost went on and said she wished someone had killed her before she had to hurt anyone else. But she stopped, looking back down as her eyes landed on the jerky. Hesitantly she reached out, pulling the bag towards herself and fumbling with getting it open.<br/>
<br/>
"Man, it feels weird to sit at a table," she mumbled, partially to herself, as she tried to get past her darker thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
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text-align: center;">「 maggie james 」</div></div><div style=" margin: auto; margin-top: 5px; height: 10px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; font-size: 8px;">Code by wren</div>