Scotty hesitated before accepting Rodeo's hand. His own hurt badly now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and there wasn't much for Rodeo to do other than help him. Now that they were safe, it seemed a bit stupid for him to have rescued Scotty just to kill him up here. He could have easily had let the zombies finish the job. Still, Scotty didn't like the prolonged contact between them, and given the choice he would have rather followed behind. He knew enough to keep a careful eye for anything sharp that could hurt him. Nails, glass, anything that could be looked over, Scotty searched for. He hadn't survived this long on pure luck after all.
Though that was a major reason why.
Down the stairs they went, Scotty silent as always; he never had been much for idle conversation. Before, when his parents and Sammy were alive, sure. He used to be a regular chatterbox with people he knew. But they were dead and Scotty learned to keep his mouth shut. Adults never wanted to hear what he had to say anyway.
There was a noticeable shift in his composure when Rodeo spoke of the safe places. Wary and suspicious now that food and safety had been promised, Scotty took a step back. His social worker had said the same thing when she dumped him with his foster parents. No way was he going with this guy.
"I'm okay by myself," he said softly as he took another step back. "Thanks for saving me."