(please note: I'm trying to work in a little more detail without slowing us down-- I think it's going well, just note that the parts in blue would take place before where Kristie's post ends, then black takes over when I proceed with continuity.  Also, we can skip ahead if need be, scene to scene?)<br/>Working the battery-powered driver, Dinah seems quite comfortable-- no professional, that's for sure, but she seems to be familiar enough with construction tools.  She works quietly, trying to suppress questions, but they come out anyway-- "Where are you from?"  "What did you do before all... this?"  "Maybe we can find a weather radio, or a CB... you think we might be able to reach other survivors?"  She asks these to all three, at some point, seeing no reason not to... she doesn't ask anyone other questions, though... she answers most anything, but she never mentions family, and she NEVER asks anyone about their loved ones.  Not now, not yet.  Too much.  The work's good, and it helps her focus on something constructive.  The whining of the electric-drive tools is comforting in a way, because it's power, it's work getting done.  It reminds her of good things, like assembling furniture or assembling a sheet-metal storage building, or her brother working on his t-bird...<br/><br/><i>Damn, there it goes again... never pays to think for too long...</i>and her eyes sting with tears a moment.  She shakes it off.  "We should see if they have a forklift in the lumber section.  That'd make a sweet addition to the barricade..." and she grins at that, resuming control.<br/><br/>The work goes quickly, then she's to Kristie's demonstration-- something about this group is very reassuring, as if it's her only option, but somehow they terrify her, too...<br/><br/>There's Jake, who seemed confident, and seemed to have the stability to set things in motion where they needed to be.  He wasn't bad looking... maybe he just seemed much older than her... strange how she had hugged him, and though she hadn't thought at the time, it made her a little self conscious now.  Also, there was his solitude... she'd never expected to find a lone soldier, and it made her paranoid, strangely, that he somehow lived-- as if she suspected that if she herself had dealt so ruthlessly with her own family, after they turned, then perhaps other survivors had done worse things..?<br/><br/>Like Marcus-- his smile was so reassuring, and he seemed relaxed-- real.  Like her, he wasn't really the military type.  How in the world did<i>he</i>survive?  and while that gave her some hope that, perhaps by some miracle, she had friends in this world still alive-- who knows?  Maybe there were whole towns, cities, or countries completely unaffected?  Maybe, someday, she'd be in Cancun drinking a margarita like she'd always planned to do, but never done?  Hell, if that was the case, then she could imagine Marcus there too-- he told the first joke she'd heard since everything fell apart.<br/><br/>But Kristie?  Dinah should have felt some kinship, some solace that she wasn't the only woman left alive, but something about her was so mechanical-- all of this clicked into place when, as the work finished, they regrouped.  The woman was wounded, Dinah finally noticed as she watched Kristie's demonstration, memorizing it as carefully as possible, as if this was some kind of bizzarro-world version of a midterm exam review.  What had 'clicked' for Dinah was that Kristie was terrifying because she was the best prepared for this of anyone Dinah had met, and yet she had prepared herself for the possibility that she might die far better than Dinah had.<i>If we're all going to die, might as well make the world easier for one lucky bastard out there</i>she'd said.  No pretense, no nothing.  That was chilling in a way that made Dinah feel a palpable need to be warm.<br/><br/>"I used to work with chemicals," she said after Kristie had finished.  "Aren't those at a risk of destabilizing?"  She seems to regret asking instantly, looking a bit self conscious.  "Well, um, I mean-- I'm sure it's the best defense we have right now."  She wiped her cheek on the neck of the sweat-stained t-shirt and nodded.  "A campfire might be good-- or a coleman stove, at least."  She'd kept a fire every night, the way she'd learned to camp, and even if it wasn't really necessary it would be good to have the light, the comfort.  Sitting with her knees up, her feet crossed in front of her hips, she stared ahead for a moment, folding her arms over her knees, and then hopped to her feet.<br/><br/>"Christ, what I need is a pizza and a bottle of PBR."  She grinned, looking around, as she stretched her back with her hands folded high over her head-- after the amount of work and the constant hiking she'd put in, most would be too exhausted to do more than roll over, but clearly she had some solid endurance.  The t-shirt rose from the waistband of her jeans and she dropped her arms, re-tucking it into the belted waist, her hands disappearing for a moment behind the grip of the pistol in her belt-holster.