She did know what the world was like. It sucked some days (most days); Sing Sing had been a bright spot in what had just become a game of survival for her. “It’s fucking stupid to think it’s anything than what it is,” she said simply with a shrug, tapping the ashes off the end of her cigarette. “Being stupid gets you killed.” There hadn’t been an ulterior motives for serious conversation, but it seemed like the conversation was veering that way every so often.
“You make it sound like your money’s already on not being immune,” Bea stated, not judging. She didn’t hold a lot of hope that she was immune either, but it just made her work harder to stay away from snapping jaws. “Which I can get. Pretty damn sure someone would end up putting a bullet in my head if I got bit.” She never said that to anyone usually, most of her friends and family wouldn’t want to hear it, but Noah, he’d get it. She didn’t want to put any of her friends in that position though, didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s guilt.
Bea was a city girl born and raised. She’d never entertained the idea of living anywhere but NYC. Or that wasn’t true; she would have considered a move to another city, but definitely not suburbia. It was a little foreign to her. “Me neither,” she said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to before the outbreak. NYC was my fucking city, I loved it.” Even the subways with their questionable cleanliness.