A lot of Nothing

Sam walked cautiously through the streets of New york, the formally crouded busy city was now a tomb of Death. A dangerous place to be, decaying bodies of the dead holding diease. and rats spreaded it and flies. if normal people had any sense they would get out of the city if they could. But Sam was on a misson first, to look for others suriviors if there were any. There were so many people in New York, there has to be some left. However she had no way of knowing what state of mind others would be in, she had a gun in hand just in case.

She started looking for a place she could secure in this hell hole, she wanted a place to stay while she looked.. there had to be someone.

She gently touched the button on her radio to hear if by some small change someone was on there other end of the line, any other time she pressed it she got white noise, nothing. But it could change at any moment, what is left of the government could be there perhaps trying to contact her eventually. At least that is what she hoped.. So she waited for a few moments, giving the deafining silence a chance to break.

Dorian had never been one for shopping of any kind, unless it involved something fun. Yet he knew there would be a time when he would run out of food. Without someone to do the grocery run for him, the casino and nightclub host had little other option but to do it himself. Which explains why he was walking up the street with a shopping cart half full of canned and partially-frozen goods. Slung from the handle of the cart was a crowbar.

He glanced at the shops along his side of the street. Clothing store - no. Toy store - interesting, but no. Lingerie store - always entertaining, but no. Grocery store - been there, done that. Hobby store - nope. Liquor store - Dorian immediately stopped.

Immediately, he went to the door and tried the knob. Locked. But there were some nice, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked breakable. Dorian hadn't busted a window since he was a teenager. He also didn't notice the woman not terribly far away. It was doubtful that knowledge of her presence, had he known, would have deterred him anyway.

Humming a rather cheerful tune that did not fit with the darkness of the times, Dorian took up his crowbar and without a moment's notice swung the thing like a baseball bat toward the window. A loud crash, followed by the gloriously beautiful sound of a shattering waterfall met his ears. Dorian gently pushed aside the display bottles, let himself inside, and unlocked the door so he could pull the shopping cart in with him.

No one, assuming there was anyone, was going to take HIS stuff!

Sam turned sharply at the sound of glass breaking she had her shot gun drawn and her body against the building wall moving towards where the sound came from. She saw a man push a cart into an abandon Liquor store and humming a rather cheerful tune that didn't fit the currant situation.. but it was slightly refreshing hearing some humming and not shouting or screaming blood murder. Still she cautiously followed him to the store...

She wasn't sure what she wanted from the man, the fact he was going into a Beer and wine store was hardly a good sign.. yet not unexpected either. Still she was out looking for possible allies, since he seemed to be in a good mood and not jumpy or traumatised... he seemed a safe enough bet.

She cleared her throat to gain the fellows attention her gun raised just in case..

"Excuse me?"

Dorian in a liquor store was no different than taking a child to a candy shop. A grin slit open his face at the sight of wall-to-wall shelves filled with just about every form of liquor and cocktail mix imaginable. Glancing at his cart, Dorian realized with dismay that he wouldn’t be able to make off with the entire treasure trove before him. No matter: he would stash the rest, and come back for it later. But what should he take now?



A bottle of vodka in the shape of a skull caught Dorian’s eye. “Aren’t you a beauty!” he whispered, trailing gloved fingers over each smooth bubble and crevice of intricate detail. “And the last one of your kind, unless your siblings are in the back room...” the man added in a disappointed mutter. Dorian was only a few inches away from gently setting the bottle in his cart when the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat made him jump, drop the bottle into his cart, and look toward the sound like a frog that mistakenly took a pincushion for a pesky fly.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he said, raising his hands defensively the moment he noticed the gun. Although Dorian had weapons in the forms of a crowbar and a handgun, the woman would’ve outdrawn him by minutes if he’d tried to reach for either. “I'll split the booze with you - just leave my cart alone.”