Awkward. Shaun approached the fence, braced his hands against it and hopped over, onto the other side. He stayed out of personal range though, Post-Rising culture didn't value personal close contact. No one touched each other unless both parties passed a blood test and even then they didn't like to do it, so Shaun made no movement to shake hands. Convenient that she was carrying bags though, now neither of them had to try. He offered her a sunny smile.
"Nice day, huh? I like cows." Which was untrue, they were murdering beasts and Shaun wasn't any more comfortable around them than he was dogs. Dogs were also murdering beasts though and he didn't have any experience with them either, which suited him fine. Shaun and George's brother had been infected by a dog that amplified and Stacy Mason had to put a bullet in her son's head when he was eight years old. That put a damper on dog ownership.
We all prepared for the inevitable, said George. She just had to do it before it was considered mercy.
Shaun bit his lip so he wouldn't respond. "Are you uh.. what are they calling us now? Refugee? Literature changes a lot when it comes to titles of things. The politically correct thing at all."