<strong>Character</strong>: Rich Han<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Gary Danko Backroom, 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/>Rich cocked his head to one side, focusing his hearing: rubber scraping unevenly on pavement, the occasional disjointed thud, and that incessant husky moaning.  He hadn't expected the crowd of zombies outside to thin, but he had still hoped some asshole would draw them away.  Well, tough shit.<br/><br/>"My way might be tough," he admitted, looking around the upper seating area.  The place was a wreck, but it was well built with lots of protection and some staples in the back.  It could even make a decent bunker, if he found himself outnumbered in the area.  He suddenly regretted popping the lock for a shortcut; that door was now the weakest point in the structure.<br/><br/>Rich looked at Rose thoughtfully.  "What about your way?"<br/>