It didn't escape Leah's notice that the man's posture was slightly hunched over to one side, as if that area was causing him discomfort. Injured, maybe? Could've been the reason he'd sought out the pharmacy. Needed Vicodin or Valium or some other such pain medication. Still, it didn't make her any less suspicious of him.

Leah's eyes narrowed. People nursing wounds were more vulnerable, true, but that didn't mean they were helpless. When the survival instinct kicked in, an individual could summon up a surprising amount of strength. Then, of course, there was the possibility that this man was putting on an act. Pretending to be injured so idiots (not like her) would let their guard down.

He did, however, lower his weapon, decreasing the threat only a few degrees. If he wanted, he could still shoot her, but not before she lifted the flashlight back to his eyes. That distraction would be her only chance.

The word "antibiotics" struck a chord in Leah's memory. That guy in Quarantine back at the Library had ranted over the intranet forums about needing antibiotics, hadn't he? This couldn't possibly be the same person, though. The need for medicine certainly wasn't rare. Everybody always needed an ointment for this, a bandage for that, and what have you.

More and more frequently, she was experiencing attacks of the conscience, and it was beginning to get annoying. Leah exhaled a heavy sight through her nostrils. "Keep the Band-Aids. I got plenty on my way in here," she said, lowering the flashlight's beam to the floor.

"Are you alone?" Not that she expected him to tell her honestly that a group of thugs — his friends — was outside waiting to jump her, but she could at least test his answer.

"Guess I can spare a bottle or two of painkillers. Or whatever the hell it is you're looking for." Damn her conscience. And damn this stranger for looking like he really needed the medicine. "But after that, you get the fuck outta here."