"Something pretty," she repeated. "Is that what women do in this era?"
She took a healthy sip of her drink and shook her head.
"To tell the truth, I'd rather buy a gun or a knife. Not that there's much use for those at the moment. I've been feeling a little naked with just what I've got in my thigh holster."
She studied the man who had to be feeling just as restless as she was.
"Is it getting to you too yet?"
She didn't think she'd have to specify. Maybe she was crazy and maybe some would enjoy the break, but it felt wrong. She knew darn well that it wouldn't last and she hated the feeling that something big would come at them all when they least expected it. She'd never lived a life where there weren't things wanting to eat her face off out there. She'd never slept in a room that wasn't guarded for demons and ghosts, and all of this just felt like she'd somehow fallen into someone else's Norman Rockwell painting.