Virgil, for those who might be interested, is glad he's with these women and not werewolves, who would have by now whipped out their dicks and started fencing with them, or so he'd tell anyone who cared to listen at great and bitter length if only they'd ask.
"The parking lot is close to a few tall buildings," he points out, never being one to let go of an idea quickly, "I can't believe the bastards walled us in here, you'd think they'd at least send a pack in to deal with suppression. Typical- shit-" a zombie that had looked placid enough had suddenly started running, and his first shot goes wild- the second nails it dead center in the forehead, and it drops, but it's just more noise he regrets making making.