The date.

[shambler]

WHO| R and Julie
WHAT| R's on his gradual road to almost-humanity. He finally asks Julie out on a date.
WHERE| A coffee shop and park. Big wide open space.
WHEN| After Timaeus's party and this
WARNINGS| Mentions of zombie stuff

He must be having a good day: his feet don't seem to drag as often, his spine feels slightly less crooked. That, plus the way his stomach flip flops instead of lies there like a lump of meat, and R's starting to think that medication might actually be....working. He doesn't understand how it does. They could've gotten tired of his shuffling from Arena to Arena for all he knows. Or they could've taken his moans to Peeta and Shion to heart and decided to try curing the uncurable. Maybe it doesn't matter.

He asks Julie out.

R thinks he means a date, like...an actual date and not just them hanging out, hoping the other zombies (or Tributes) mind their business. A date date. It might be months and Arenas late, but still. He asks. Finally.

To his shock, she says yes. He wonders if she knows about Perry because back in that jungle, it seemed like Zombie Charades wasn't working out between them. Then he catches himself worrying about his groaning, his shoes, his hair and for awhile, there's no room for Perry. This is probably what it was like during life Before.

R's waiting by the coffee shop. His hair looks a little less brittle, a little less straw-like, and there's something that could be almost mistaken for a flush in his face. It's probably just a trick of the light. The smile that spreads behind his muzzle when Julie crests the small hill is more natural, less jerky as if the muscles are fighting off rigor-mortis. Julie's always brought that out in him. Smiles and even topping his old syllable record.

"Glad...you can make...it," R groans as his face lights up. There's still some pauses in there. He'll have to work on that. "Hi."

Comments

[shambler]

R's eyes wander down to her hand, which seems to be doing something that's surprisingly intimate: extended touch with his corpse's knuckles. Braving his cold flesh. His heart flutters again and this time he's sure it's not just the Cure trying to do something about the undead thing.

"Not..." R pauses. If he was truly alive, the pause would've been theatrical, for effect, to gauge reaction. For him, though, he's busy trying to line up his words. "Yet. Maybe...soon..."

He knows Julie will have questions. And because this is a date and the sun is gleaming outside and her thumb is caressing warm circles around his skin, he purses his lips and gears himself, something that must be courage swelling until his chest feels like it'll burst. The first syllables come out in a flood:

"They gave me a...Cure," R struggles gamely on, his mouth working behind the muzzle. "Said..I'll be...different for...Arena. Be like...you. Wanted...to tell you."

He looks at their entwined hands, her pink against his grey, and looks back up at her face. She's smart, she'll figure out what that means. He's hoping it's a one-way trip back to life and the Cure won't reject him. Maybe one day they can hold hands and they'll both be the same pulse, the same skin flushed with blood and he won't look at her and have the hunger muttering in the back it wishes it could kill her already. Julie smiles at him, light reflects off the glass of water that's appeared next to her courtesy of a waiter, and he supposes this is what love with the Living must be like. Confusing. Hopeful. Looking forward to the future for a change even if Perry's suddenly on the horizon.

[misscabernet]

R's speech is slow enough that she has more than enough time to make a derisive snort, decidedly unbelieving. Maybe soon? She should've known better not to ask. It's not like anything was gonna change. (It's not like R went so long without eating a person. Or that he has a little color in his face now --)

Everything drains out of her all at once. She barely blinks, staring at him across the table. Her hand stops moving.

"What?" A feeling rolls in her heart, turning it over, but -- look, they know better. As many times as she's prayed to every damn deity she could think of, there's no cure. (So why was it she was wondering that, when he somehow got into the stadium to find her? Why was she thinking he was more human every day?)

"There is no cure." She says it lamely, robotically. Julie's more than a little shaken by the fact that she knows Perry's said the same thing to her the exact same way. "I mean, R. I know they have some amazing stuff here, but -- but a cure..."

The problem is she wants to believe it. Not just for R's sake. Then again, she never thought she'd ever see a city filled with people again, did she? Untouched by the apocalypse?

Julie gets out of her seat so quickly that it scrapes loudly on the floor. Just a touch of his hand isn't enough. Her hand comes to his chest, right above his heart, the same way he's touched her before.

Is that...? No. Can't be.

[shambler]

At first he's convinced he didn't word this properly. That flat "what" and the blank look on Julie's face is...worrying. R sits there reviewing what he said and can't see anything wrong with his groaning. It said what he needed it to. Concerned, he searches her face as she retreats into her head, studying him with her teeth nibbling her lip as if he's pulling her leg, as if she can't - won't - open herself up to that little shred of hope.

Then it sinks in and Julie's suddenly up on her feet and leaning over the table.

His eyes meet hers as she touches his chest: it's warmer than before, only a ghost of a heartbeat but not that corpse cold either. Instead of stiffness, there's give. It's too bad his heart isn't thudding louder, he thinks regretfully. Would've be nice to surprise her with that. These days he worries it'll just stop, give up.

"Those I...infect...come back," R says, picking his words with care. His voice seems less hoarse than usual, almost...human. "Why...not my...turn? Escort said...change's...good."

He creaks out a smile, tentative, thankfully not showing too many teeth behind his muzzle. Hopefully one day, he'll be able to walk, not shuffle, to Julie and say what he really thinks in his head without worrying about syllables or decomposing on her. She's held out hope in the post-apocalypse life they've both shared, met a zombie who can groan words. There must be a little more room for this.

R's hand reaches up to touch hers, to remind her that what's happening is real. It's not some pipe dream.

[misscabernet]

If anything shut her up, it'd be that. Fuck. Of course the people he infects come back. She even met up with Howard at that stupid party. She just -- the connection wasn't there. It's funny that she was hoping so hard at home and now that someone just magically comes up with the cure, she can't believe it.

But his skin gives. She can press it and it feels alive. A little warmth underneath it. Julie's pretty sure she's right. He'd be blue-eyed. Funny thing is he's had pretty eyes even as a corpse.

"Jesus, R," she sputters, a little choke coming up and stealing more words from her. Are we still home? Someplace where they have the cure, where this isn't a problem anymore?

No. She knows better. But. Goddammit. The whole world. A little give in skin at a time and -- how do they know it works? How do they know he won't just be a faster zombie?

"Change is great. Change is. Awesome." She smiles and rubs at an eye nonchalantly, though her other hand lingers on him. She's not gonna choke here. Not where there's people who'd kill to film her crying. Give other tributes the idea she's weak. But -- Dad. And the stadium. Field trips outside the walls. "You better survive that Arena for a bit, huh? You gotta enjoy this."

[shambler]

It's one of the few times he's seen her struggling for words as bad as he does. The difference is emotions flit across her face, her eyes dart from his own to his heart and then to her hand, and it's just so much...faster. "Plan...to. I'll...find you and...show. Want to...share."

It's his first date with Julie Grigio and he's maybe made her almost-cry. Hard to tell.

On a whim, R reaches out and touches her cheek with a finger, grey against her pink, his nails still grubby because no matter what his Escort does, she's never been able to get years worth of grime and gore out. R tries to keep the worst of it from touching Julie's face as a matter of principle. Okay, don't poke her eye out. Not the best pep talk he's ever given himself. He's already committed to this.

He brushes against her eyelid, wiping away the barest hint of moisture. Tear? Wishful thinking? It's too hard to tell.

...Is she wondering about all the people she's lost? What if they could've been saved?

The thought rings in R's head, clear, cob-web free. His hand drops away from her face as he stares at her. Like everyone in the new world, she's lost people, and it wasn't just Perry. Some might've been saved from the infection but others...maybe not. R suddenly catches himself wondering about those, about the parts of Julie Grigio that Perry's never seen.

The appetizers arrive then on gorgeous porcelain plates. R's forgotten about food entirely, forgotten about the muzzle and the date. He shifts and gives Julie's hand a pat, aware the moment's fading.

[misscabernet]

Julie snorts in a laugh so she doesn't actually cry. Not that she's going to. Talking about it like it's a show and tell for his fourth grade teacher. His hand on her face is about as appetizing as having cold worms crawl on her cheek, but she allows it. The disbelief breaks. (She should've gotten it. Seeing Howard. But even seeing the unzombified kid isn't the same as R. She's only known him as dead. It was permanent.)

And it spreads. One half-alive boy and her head spreads to those outlands around the stadium they could reclaim. The fact they wouldn't have to live in a goddamn stadium. Nora and her -- Jesus, her brother.

She takes her hand back and plops down in her seat. Even through this she can't forget that she's hungry all the damn time. Still, instead of eating she just picks at it on her little appetizer plate, watching him. "I'm glad you told me." Yeah, glad. Understatement of the year. "And the date's going well, so don't worry."

Tear aside and all. She's playing it off like that never happened.

[shambler]

R stares, so relieved he freezes in place before he remembers that’s bordering on creepy. “Good.”

He plays around with his own appetizer, swirling it around with his finger. He’s being daring and try to mix in raw steak with what might be sautéed asparagus and mushrooms. There’s probably some fancy name for the sauce that’s dripped over it, artsy and darting across the plate. Knowing his usual reaction to human food, R suspects he’ll be throwing it up later.

Or maybe not. With the Cure, who knows?

“Julie, I…” R opens his mouth after he’s choked down some of his own appetizer. He should bring up Perry now instead of sitting on it. But then he sees Julie look at him, expectant, and he loses his nerve again. His mouth flops, feeling particularly zombie-like today. “Wanted…say like…being…with you. Thank you.”

[misscabernet]

Well for a date with a zombie. But he looks at her with such stupidly obvious emotions, and it doesn't feel very corpse-y. Even if he hangs on some words and trips over others. Julie knows there's probably going to be photographs of this, some sort of mad Capital paparazzi videotaping their date -- maybe exclamations of how fucking crazy she is. Something to soup up excitement, maybe to try to rope in some seriously fucked sponsors.

One of the best reasons to avoid the televisons. As much as she can, of course.

She chews the leafy bits of a piece of asparagus, soaked in juices and seasonings she doesn't even know the name of. Butter she recognizes; she remembers globs of it on baked potatoes at a cook-out. When people could hang out in a fenced off backyard and not have to worry if the barbed wire will hold.

Once she looks back up at him, she blinks. Flattery wars with that warm sense of, hell, embarrassment that he hasn't felt since Perry started flirting with her. She smiles, though, pleased and a hint flustered. "Yeah, me too." Maybe it's kind of nice, having a bit of freedom. No dad looking down to see if her new boyfriend was good with a Glock. Even if a very small, idiotically idealizing part of her wouldn't mind introducing them. (Thinking maybe Grigio's first reaction wouldn't be putting a bullet between his eyes.) "I mean, it... it helps. Being in there, knowing you are too."

Which is a shitty way to put it, but there you go. That's all she's got. Even if she lost Mom, she's always had someone. Dad, then Nora. Perry. Rosso. Now she has no way of knowing if they've survived the day.