Brena winced when he poked her side, and she closed her eyes, to ignore him. She could feel the warmth of his body pass near and she held her breath, stifling a light growl but when he poked her again, her eyes flashed open and she found herself eye to eye with the man who was just playing house with a little girl he assumed as his daughter. Brena flicked herself back against the wall and straightened, "W-Why are you so close?" she asked, curling a lip back.<br/><br/>The wall was up again and she was gearing up for another fight, "And why do you keep poking me? I'm not your girlfriend," she shoved, worming her way against the wall before sliding away from his reach and out of his grip. She caught the last part and her mind buzzed, "I'm sure," she paused, looking back at him, "Unfortunately, I don't think it'll get much better by just standing around. If I can get just enough gas, I'll be out of your hair, I swear." She explained, passively, looking back to her gun on the coffee table. She edged back out of the kitchen to go for it - not that she was after shooting him although the thought of keeping him a good two feet away sounded pleasing - but she stopped, looking to the door and suddenly she felt queasy. Brena looked back at him and her mind rolled at the thought of the truck. She hadn't been to it all night and with one of those things crawling around last time she checked, she didn't want to even begin to imagine how many were crawling all over her truck.