It'd always been sort of cool that he was a police officer, maybe -- stuff like that was always cool to a little kid, what with the car and the social tropes and the shiny badge -- but... He was Uncle B.
Sometimes it was easy to forget how much the world had changed. Luke hadn't had all that much time to form real opinions or perspectives about much of anything before it had gone to hell. He tended to simultaneously hold onto and push away what he remembered most clearly, just because it felt so strange. Kind of uncomfortable. Or maybe it just hurt -- what did he know, anyway?
And now apparently people could be immune? So that wasn't a fairy tale.
"So," he began, after a moment synthesizing the story. "So... Wait. Does that mean we could be...? You know."
A hand gestured vaguely toward himself and Alana. "Like you. Zombie free."
Maybe it wasn't completely relevant. And maybe it was true that it was likely not something that worked that way. But it was worth asking, and Lucas didn't know what else to say about anything Uncle B had said. I'm happy you didn't die?I'm sorry you were strapped to a bed?
Luke ran a hand through his hair instead, frowning.