charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
"Knowing me, I'd probably be standing outside with a fuckin' rifle trying to shoot the goddamn meteor," Charlie shot back with a smirk. She didn't believe that, of course; the only reason she fought was because throwing herself into reckless situations would kill her quicker. But her mask of bravado was back in full, like a turtle pulling itself back inside its tough outer shell, and she was painfully aware of just how vulnerable she'd almost made herself.
"You can't outrun a runner in heels, I don't care how fucking hard-ass you are," She scoffed. Perhaps her resentment was a left over prejudice from being a woman in a man's world, but it was never anything she cared to analyze. "And they're not. They're all mindless fucking optimists, too. I hate people that can't admit that the world is fucked. Hoping to go back to the way things were is a pipe dream at best and it doesn't help a goddamn soul. This is what we have. Two choices: adapt or die."
Charlie was quiet for a moment after her tirade, picking at the sleeve of her faded green sweatshirt. Her thoughts felt like they were going a mile a minute, and she decided that they needed to stop. With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and offered him her hand. "I need more goddamn alcohol. You coming?" She asked, ignoring the little "bad decision" alarm that was going off in her head. What could a few more drinks hurt?