The little demonsick old lady dying felt like any of the other ones dying, felt weird and squirmy in her head, little black specks and she ignored it because she’d gotten good at that. She’d had to, otherwise she’d have been dead by now because she couldn’t kill them - dead or more insane than she was, anyway, because killing them really was the only thing to do. She moved out from behind the corner as the man she’d just saved started talking, tilting her head at him curiously.
>"Gee, if you wanted to take me to dinner, you shoulda just asked. For future reference: next time, take me to Red Lobster. I'm sure charred human is all the rage here in apocalypse-land, but I'm a very demanding guy. Freshly grilled seafood is the only way to go."
“Cannibalism is discouraged on civilized worlds,” she said seriously, moving over to poke at the remains of the woman with the toe of one shoe, less to make sure she was dead and more... well, she didn’t really have a reason, or if she did she couldn’t remember it. She stopped, looking back up at him instead. “Probably better than three year old seafood, though. Safer.”
He was a little familiar, and she poked at his presence slightly, frowning. “You’re the broken angel, the one with the jokes,” - the one who had called her insane, too, but she didn’t really mind that, not today - “Told you you weren’t gonna be safe out here. You almost died.”