"Whoa," Happy panted, raising his hands immediately in a gesture of surprise. He furrowed his brows and stared at the stranger and it took him a few seconds to realize why exactly she was pointing her gun at him. He understood the caution but Jesus Christ. Oh well, this was what he got for putting any amount of trust in a stranger during all this; it was every man for himself.
"Chill out," he said and showed her his arms (dirty but otherwise unscathed) to appease her and then lifted off his shirt with exaggerated slowness so she didn't get alarmed and think he was doing some weird undead strip tease. He would've stopped there but, what the hell, right? This was a pretty dire situation after all. He'd rather be safe then get a bullet in the back later if his savior turned trigger-happy psycho and decided he likely had a bite somewhere she hadn't seen. He showed her his undamaged bare torso then turned as she'd instructed and unbuckled his belt to drop trou, his shorts following suit. There wasn't a mark on him aside from a heart shaped tattoo on his pallid ass and a few bruises he'd sustained over the past weeks.
"We good?" he asked as he stooped to haul his pants up then wrestled himself back into his shirt, still turned away from her. At least he wouldn't have to look down the barrel of her gun if she decided to shoot him anyway. Maybe he would've had better luck with the zombies.