<strong>Character</strong>: Rich Han<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Gary Danko Upper Dining Area, Fisherman's Wharf<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Present<br/><strong>Attire</strong>: Running shoes, cargo pants, t-shirt, backpack<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Rich, Rose<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The fork left his hand like the lazy spitball of a bought pitcher.<em>Good throw, good throw,</em>Rich thought as it arced through the air, catching a sunbeam briefly as it passed over the edge of the building's shadow.<br/><br/>It clattered noisily against the wall and, as predicted, the zombie turned toward it.<br/><br/>"Alright, here's our chance," Rich said to Rose, easing the door open wide enough for them to pass through.  The sudden assertiveness in his voice was a clear departure from the almost timid tone he had been using up to this point.  "I need to grab my bike--" There was no point in hiding the fact he had one any longer, "--and then we can make for whichever way is clear.  Sound good?"<br/><br/>If Rose gave the affirmative, Rich would carefully slip out of the doorway and quietly move up the alley to where his bike was hidden beneath the tarp.  If all went well, he'd slip it off without making noise, then wheel his bike after Rose.  With any luck, the zombie would be utterly oblivious.