It took Bobbi a moment to answer, and when she did it was with a vague shrug and a frown as she said, "Nothing's like it used to be." He could see for himself, if he wanted to. Bobbi didn't have to be the one to crush his heart and tell him his whole neighbourhood had been razed and the chances of him finding his family were nil. She had lept quickly into the truck, throwing her bag in the back, and tore out of the alley, weaving easily through the abandoned vehicles and heaps of rotted garbage. Behind them, the tarp fluttered and shifted, stumbling across the road in confusion.
Before Happy could press the subject his driver announced, "Bobbi," and offered a hand to shake even as she mounted the sidewalk to avoid a mail truck. "Glad to see you." 'Meet' wasn't entirely appropriate, though Bobbi was glad for that, too. For all of her caution and the frustration she felt looming, she was more than happy to see a someone with a little clarity in their eyes and the chance to nail that zombie in the head was good for her mood. "I have a place where you can clean up and gear up if you want," she explained, "and then we can decide what to do from there. It's not far." She was pretty sure Clint wouldn't mind the company. Oh, shit, the radio. Fumbling for it, she quickly switch it on to say, "Sorry, lover, all clear, keep your pants on. Or take them off, we're on our way in."