One of the things about their new world that was never going to stop unsettling her--she could get used to zombies as strange as that was--were the guns. The sight of Molly with a gun made her tighten her jaw an infinitesimal amount. It was a stupid, childish hangup, but Gert was stubborn to a fault. She had fired guns, but she didn't carry them. The ones that she used stayed in van. If something unexpected happened, she had Old Lace.
And Chase. She always had Chase.
She could contain Old Lace for a while longer. The edge of a headache was nothing compared to what she'd endured at various points in the past. It was nothing, and Gert was glad that Chase let it go.
Gert shook her head at the beard. "At least it's not tufted and braided." That she would have managed to cut off even if she had to whittle down circuit boards to fashion some semblance of a razor.
It wasn't until Molly drew her attention back to the rings that Gert remembered she had left them on, which would make Chase happy just as surely as it made her anxious. Chase got to telling the wedding stories. Those were his, after all. Gert started fidgeting with the rings again as she watched Molly, unsure whether the girl was going to get mad about having missed the production or not. "It wasn't anything fancy, Molly."