Truth be told, O'Brien was far less dangerous than the act that he put on made him out to be. And hey. She shouldn't make fun of a guy's coat. He hadn't exactly gone looking for another one, yet, because he really hadn't had the opportunity. This one was handed to him, and he needed it. So he took it. He didn't mind the color.. but it was entirely too big and the reflective strips above the pockets weren't exactly his style, but whatever. As soon as he got better, he'd go out and find himself a whole new outfit probably.
She'd succeeded in taking away all his sight! Well.. 80% of it. He was still seeing little dots of light everywhere. He sighed at her comment about the flashlight, "Congratulations." If he could find that damn bag of his! God only knew where it was. He was betting on the Rookie having stole it. Bastard. In case she was wondering, "I haven't been able to find another flashlight, yet." And he had nothing to trade for one either.
He may have been a little too trusting sometimes, but at the moment, he was a little bit more desperate than necessary. He just wanted to get the antibiotics and start feeling better. The fever was getting old.
And he understood her alright. But he was being vague for the fuck of it. Good. She could be vague too. But preferably? Why would anyone choose that? Especially these days? Well, for starters, a lot of times it was a hell of a lot easier. That, and you didn't have to worry about anyone, or get too attached-- just to lose them again.
"Uh," he shrugged, scoffing a bit, "I don't know? I mean.. It's the Library, if that's what you're asking. I'm not sure they like me," he started, bringing a hand back up to shield his eyes, "They're probably just saving it for people who are actually staying there. As far as they're concerned, I'm what? An outsider? I don't blame them. If some guy apparently came stumbling into my place all-- you know, zombie-like, and passed out into a coma for a few days, I don't think I'd give him my limited supply of food and drugs either. Not at first. I don't know the guy."
He wouldn't call her a crazy hoarding cat lady. Not to her face, anyway.
His brows lifted with surprise at her little comment about being armed, "but a fucking machete..?" Damn. Okay, yeah, that was kind of hot. Blonde chick with a machete. Who was kind of bitchy. But that was part of the appeal, right? Tough chick with sharp knife.
He pursed his lips at her sweeping gesture for him to go on, "well, alright, then, Spongebob... or should I call you miss Machete?" He eyed her a moment before turning to continue toward the back of the Pharmacy. If she wanted to stab him in the back, she totally could have. Yes, too trusting.