That was most definitely the reason that he had sought out the pharmacy. And yes, for the record, his side was causing him discomfort. But he had all of the pain medications that he needed. He just needed to get some antibiotics so he could get better again. That's all he wanted. To get rid of the infection, give himself time to heal, and then, maybe, he could be on his way. He still wasn't sure he was going to be staying at the library. Not that he had any other ideas of where to go... but he wasn't exactly the sort of guy that liked to stay in one place. He liked moving all over.
And he really didn't care. She could be suspicious of him all she wanted. He just needed the antibiotics so he could get the fuck out of there.
O'Brien was anything but helpless. He could and would still put up a fight, if she picked one, but he was more vulnerable than usual, and he, of all people, hated that. Also? He wasn't that great of an actor, if she knew him. But.. she didn't know him. She'd never seen his awful-- well, okay, mediocre-- undercover work. He lowered his weapon because he didn't want to be a threat. Not to some chick he just ran into in an abandoned drug store. "Look, I don't know if you're armed or not, because frankly I can't see a damn thing thanks to your little," he motioned to her, "blinding technique.. But I'm not here to take anything from you, unless you're hoarding the Penicillin."
He did happen to be that very same guy that was whining about antibiotics on the intranet thing. Was he that obnoxiously annoying that she remembered him? Or that she remembered 'Quarantine Guy'? Hm.
Studying the woman a moment, he moved to reholster his gun, "well, thanks for leaving some Batman ones." He wasn't sure he could handle Hello Kitty band-aids. Ever. And thank you for lowered the damn flashlight, he wanted to add, but he refrained.
And did he really look like a thug that was going to have his friends jump her? Okay, okay. Times were hard. People did funny things. People got desperate. He was a protector of the law, and even he had had his moments... but he wasn't about to jump this woman for items in an abandoned pharmacy.
Well, maybe for the antibiotics.
But not really.
"Always," Well, usually. Okay. Not really. He used to travel with this asshole he thought was a friend, and look how that turned out. "..You?" He hadn't heard anyone else making a lot of noise like she was, but that didn't mean anything either. They could be hiding behind that door, at the back, for all he knew, waiting to shoot him in the back. He really hoped not. He didn't feel like taking any more bullets. Ever, really, but especially not until he was feeling a little better from the fucking rookie cop's bullet in his side.
He shook his head, "I don't need anymore painkillers," although it probably wouldn't hurt, "I just need some antibiotics. The place I'm at is out. Or running low," his brows furrowed with thought, "I'm not sure." All he knew was that they weren't giving any to him when there were kids that probably needed the medicine more... or something. So he'd just go find his own damn antibiotics.
But this chick, right here. She was being all crazy hoarding cat lady, and being all like, 'these things ARE MINE. DON'T TAKE THEM.'
And holy shit. Was that a fucking machete in her hand?? Maybe he should have thought twice about putting his gun away. He narrowed his eyes, "is that a machete?" The flashlight had hit it just right. He saw it. yeah. A fucking machete. Damn.
At any other time and place, a machete wielding blonde chick in a Post Apocalyptic world would be kind of hot. But not when she was sighing heavily at you and demanding you get the fuck out. And possibly threatening you with said machete.
Hesitating a moment, he gave her a single nod of thanks, "Thank you." He motioned toward the back, "do you need to escort me to make sure that's all I get..or what?"