Thanks to Violet's prompting, Gert Yorkes had made it to the shelter not long after all of the madness had begun. It was for the best, because wits and a dinosaur - even a moderately sized dinosaur like Old Lace - were nothing against the hordes of the undead. Since arriving, the teenager had made herself both comfortable and useful; she wasn't cheerful and she wasn't telling the other kids to 'put on a brave face,' but if you watched carefully enough, you might just catch her regaling some of the more terrified tenants with stories from home.
Hey. Gert had discovered that for a lot of people, it was like hearing a fairytale or some kind of action movie script. Kept the mind off things. That's all she wanted.
Gert wasn't the cheery sort, but she had a soft, squishy center beneath all the cynicism.
When she made her way into the choral balcony, she was actually seeking one of the kids. He reminded her a little of Molly Hayes, and she'd taken to keeping an eye on him. Because he could get his foolish self hurt, y'know. Not because she was worried, oh no. When she stepped into the loft, though, she noticed the adult and paused. Uh. Usually, when people were lurking alone? They wanted to be alone. She hesitated, then finally spoke.