The threat sounded braver than she felt, given that his weapon was superior when taking down living foes. Walk softly, carry a big knife. Leah was still alive because of that simple motto. Ruffians were quick to take advantage of those without weapons and who showed any sign of fear. That was generally where apathy became Leah's strongest defense.
Short and to the point. Her conversation skills had become rusty with disuse over the years. Other than to detail her observations or make a rude remark, she preferred conducting searches and missions in relative silence. However, there was the tiniest bit of intrigue beginning to blossom, although it didn't have much room to grow in the darkness.
Quarantine Guy. Last she heard, he'd been in the infirmary. Several questions vied for attention, but what came out was the answer to the question the man asked her about there being zombies in the office. "Actually, yes, an entire horde is in there waiting to tackle you the moment you open that door." She shook her head in disbelief. "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer, QG."
"I was sent here to grab whatever I could. Didn't pay a whole lot of attention to labels or anything. There's bound to be something like that left, unless some greedy asshole took it all," she said, a bit ironically.
"An infected gunshot wound," Leah repeated, feigning surprise. She refused to let it become common knowledge that she spent any amount of time on the forums. "And those bastards wouldn't give you anything for it?" That wasn't hard to believe. Doctors who worked for the government were the worst people to trust when a life was at stake. "So, you just decided to escape and get your own. Smart choice."
O'Brien claimed his entrance hadn't been loud and Leah countered with, "Yes, you were. I heard you all the way back here. With the door closed. Seriously, it's a wonder all those shufflers didn't follow you in."
Leah followed him into the office, bending down to retrieve her bag before shining the flashlight for O'Brien to see. "I think I like Quarantine Guy better." Under pretense of making sure the items she'd stuffed in her bag were still there, Leah scanned the labels for anything resembling what might help the man.
"Miss Machete or Stone. Take your pick." The former made her sound like some kind of comic book super-villian, which was amusing. She deposited her bag on the desk.
Keeping O'Brien in her sights, the woman climbed up on the desk to search through the scant number of white bottles on the top shelves. She reached for a bottle of something called DisperMox and skimmed the label. "What about this?" She asked, chucking the bottle at him.