Children, the elderly, invalids. As sad and depressing as it was, those three groups were generally the first on the menu. Jude wasn't the first to express his opinion that Clint Eastwood, an aged actor, could outlive this. Maybe when he was younger, he might've stood a chance. But the last Leah had heard, Eastwood had been nearing his eighties, and that lessened his chances of survival.
Secretly, Leah enjoyed the various renditions of the 'Living, Dead, Really Dead: Celebrity Edition' game. Granted, not many of her votes went to Living. "I could believe Eastwood's a zombie. Statham's probably one, too. And Chan? Probably a Leaper." Alright, so her rendition of the game was more along the lines of 'Which Undead Type: Celebrity Addition'. Few people wanted to play that game, however.
Conversations with Leah did tend to lead toward the bleak. She didn't feel the need to say as much, given that Jude seemed to have figured that out on his own. As if sensing whatever pointlessly reassuring comment the man was about to voice, the ladder's protests made themselves known again. From her place above, Leah gripped the railing and held her breath. Watching someone in danger of being hurt never came easy to her. Unless it was a government officer. Then she'd gleefully watch him fall to his death. Jude didn't seem like the government type, though, which made her concern flair up.
"'Stone' will be enough," Leah confirmed with a nod. "My twin sister should be easiest enough to spot. Brother Brandon will be the easiest to find, though. He's a sniper." Feeding him details about her remaining family helped put her mind at ease. As long as she had someone to pass along the message, she was ready for anything.
Leah's eyes swept over him impassively when he, yet again, didn't show a trace of annoyance. Few people valued her life over theirs, no matter if they admitted to having living family or not. She'd never been left behind to die, however, which was evidence enough that her skills, at least, were valued. Jude's remark gave her the impression that he had a bit of a death wish, too.
Oh great, so he was trying to take her down with him. That was mighty nice of him. Leah gritted her teeth, waiting for the metal to stop shaking beneath her feet. Shitshitshitshitshit! Falling was not how she wanted to die.
It took every bit of resolve in her to not to punch Jude when he mused about having no need for a Plan B. All the fire escape needed was a reason to let go, and a punch? Probably would've given it the appropriate reason. Leah had to content herself with a glare and a sigh. "Both our faces were almost splattered across the asphalt."
Edging back, Leah adjusted her grip on the window sill to allow Jude to take his position. She was tempted to argue with him over the privilege of getting off the unstable fire escape, but he was already halfway in and surveying whatever he could make out in the darkness. Besides, the fire escape favored her weight more.
Any number of different outcomes could stem from breaking that glass. Most of them, in her opinion, would put them in a spot if there were any undead in the near vicinity. This was a rescue mission, though. Leah was immune and could only assume Jude was as well, and they were here to rescue a teenager who, more than likely, wasn't immune.
"Which is why I never leave home without my machete." Always expect a fight. Those words kept her on her toes at all times. "Break the glass. Let's see what it draws out. Might even lure them away from the kid, if we're lucky."