[ Phone: ]
Sup. First order of business, everyone calm the fuck down and let the professionals handle this. You know, the guys who've actually spent time preparing for a zombie apocalypse. I'm so in my element right now I'm crossing over into all the other ones, shit's just crazy.
And since I worked at a Best Buy for a week back in the day [ is
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Rittz got the call earlier that he was supposed to work at the bar today. He'd never really held a job, not really, but come hell or high water he was going to make a good first impression. He's even dressed at the moment in the stupid little bartender suit he's supposed to wear. Granted, it's caked in gore along with the golf club he's found, as he's ended up braining the ever living hell out of any of the zombies that got in his way.
Which is how he finds Bro. Dressed for his job and covered in blood and zombie guts. He's trying to run like hell since the sooner he gets to the stupid job, the better, and he can hopefully you know, defend himself better there. Even Rittz understands that.
But still, when he sees another normal looking person, he stops to give a friendly wave. Cause that's just polite.]
Hey there!
These zombies, huh? Sure are something. Jesus.
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[Rittz just blinks for a minute before actually realizing what was just said. He waves his hands in front of him in a frantic motion, shaking his head a little.]
No! No no no dude! I-I never stole man!
Uh, I mean I guess I'm kinda more...a follower than a leader, you know? Like Skip! Skip's a great leader, and I'm his partner and follower.
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Don't even worry about it, kid, your secret life of hideous life-wrecking crime is safe with me. Not even so much as a goddamn hint'll pass through these lips.
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He doesn't even bother to look at it. He just manages to hit it from the side as he looks at Bro.]
.....Are you psychic?
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Nah, brah. I'm just the acest damn detective what ever got dragged into this town.
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