If this woman only knew the crap of horrors he had gone through just to be standing there with her in the abandoned pharmacy, that evening. He didn't, for once, think that he was the only one that had ever gone through something awful during the apocalypse; He knew that the people that were still around today had all been through hell. You didn't survive otherwise.
But O'Brien had been fully prepared for everything-- that's the kind of guy he was-- he was fully prepared to battle zombies and survive an apocalypse, but he'd been shot by someone he thought he could trust, his bag was either stolen or lost in the shuffle, and then he'd been left for dead, to let a horde of zombies eat him for dinner. So if he still had his bag, he would have had a damn flashlight.
And what did that mean? 'smart enough to realize'? Damnit, woman! He stared at her, a bit surprised when she proved that she really did know him-- ish. "Yeah," he answered shortly, "I'm that guy. So?" Worrying his lip with his teeth, he studied her when she explained that he didn't know her. He nodded hesitantly, "well, I do, now." Sort of. And he gave a thumbs up at her quick response regarding her machete 'getting the job done'.
"Good deal," he began, moving to take his gun back from the holster, "You keep your eye on me, and I'll keep my eye on you." Wasn't that the rule of thumb? If he watched her, she wasn't going to get eaten by zombies. He'd shoot the bastards before they could touch her. He'd hoped she-- or any human being, for that matter, would do the same for him.
"Have you been to the back, yet? The Pharmacy, I mean?"