The best medic. Right, well, that was debatable under current circumstances. “The best medic but also the only alcoholic medic. Somehow, for some reason, I think one of those things contradicts the other,” she mused, as if talking to herself. “Or maybe I’m just crazy and don’t understand the connection.” A lot of people used alcohol as a vice, so she wasn’t judging him for that. When it came down to it, she wasn’t really judging him at all. Leah tended to have a habit of antagonizing people, however minimally. It wasn’t usually intentional.
Leah brushed her hand through her hair and glanced down the hall again. Now that she knew he was okay, she didn’t know why she didn’t just continue on her way. Concern, maybe. Stranger things had happened. The barest of smirks teased at the corner of her mouth. “Too bad my twin sister’s not with me right now. You’d be seeing quadruple and that’s a mindfuck for any drunk.”
Doctors who were rational earned Leah’s respect a lot quicker than a doctor who tried to sugarcoat things. Grim news couldn’t be sugarcoated, just as Zach said (more or less, anyway). She settled on a neutral expression, one that didn’t give away her curiosity or anything else she didn’t want him to see.
“At least someone understands that.” People died, but life went on for everybody else. The world had always worked that way, even before zombies.
After a moment, Leah nodded to herself. Zach wasn’t hurting anybody. He was just sitting here, wanting to be alone, as he’d said. She wondered if his sisters knew where he was, or if they were searching for him. “You need help getting anywhere or do you wanna just sit here?” Even if she wasn’t pregnant, she couldn’t carry him, but she could keep him from falling on his ass again. Probably.
And anyway, it was better than letting other people get a good look at the drunk medic staring blankly at a random wall.