charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Re: Group #1 has all the crazy bitches you can handle.
Scents didn't really bother Charlie. You smelled some nasty things while learning to hunt, and even nastier things out in the desert, but even she had to admit, this was pretty bad. It smelled like a giant latrine and a mass grave had a bastard child, then put it in a jar under New York City to ferment for five years. Which was kind of an appropriate simile, when you thought about it. Either way, the smell was enough to make even her cringe as she moved forward, carefully avoiding any puddles of mysterious murk. The last thing she needed was to get some weird-ass foot infection from getting five-year-old sewer crap in her boots. Ugh.
She waited impatiently for the rest of the crew to come down the ladder, bouncing from foot to foot, oblivious to any interpersonal tension that was going on. Emotions weren't exactly Charlie's strong suit, especially when she was itching to go. Standing around was boring, and she wanted to kill things. And since they hadn't been ambushed immediately, it meant that whatever was making those noises was deeper in the sewers.
Leah's comment about the stench made her let out a barking laugh. "Yeah, almost as fuckin' bad as twenty sweaty guys in the middle of a fuckin' desert." Leah was even more badass in person, Charlie decided, and made a mental note to tell her so later. It was always nice to see a contrast to the whiny, girly bitches she'd been running into lately; those types of women pissed her off. They were the types that felt like they needed a big strong man to protect them, which Charlie most certainly did not, and she strongly resented any implication otherwise. She could take care of herself, fuck-you-for-asking.
"Fuckin' finally. You all are slower than a bunch of turtles, you know that?" As soon as she heard the word "go straight", she was off. Her movements were deliberate, cautious-- while she thought O'Brien's fear was kind of silly, she still wasn't going to write off the possibility of zombie snakes, and she really, really didn't want to step on one. Rotting flesh stench took weeks to get off of leather, and it was getting harder and harder to find decent combat boots small enough for her little feet.
Her ears picked up on a scratching sound, and she raised her crossbow to fire, trying to pinpoint the location of the noise. "You guys hear that?" She questioned, stopping her forward motion. With any luck, it'd be rats, but one could never be too careful.