Thankfully Julie was great and let him finish his awkward, clumsy baby steps here and even acted like she thought his opinion was cool. Like this was a joint decision. R might need a few more seconds to get rid of his thumbs up, privately worried he could snap off some fingers on the way down. He thought he might not even mind if he did, that little glow buzzing through his body as he stared at Julie.
The shy smile behind his muzzle grew a little wider, softening despite his rigor mortis muscles. With Julie here, sometimes he felt like he wasn’t rotting, like maybe he could go with a good tan and fresh clothes and that the muzzle was only there for looks.
“You…liked it?” R’s rattling voice was surprised, then pleased, because the clothes a zombie died in were one of the few solid clues about who they were. It was one of the few personal things left. He’d sometimes felt self-conscious about his: a ratty hoodie compared to M’s nice suit, holes that probably were there even before the apocalypse. Now Julie was saying she liked the “look” (he had a look?) and that made R miss his hoodie even more now. “I…agree. Find...more…like it?”
“You would look both adorable if you tried matching colors,” said the voice behind R’s shoulder. “Trust me.”
By now they’d attracted attention – they might not be the most popular Tributes out there, but a girl and her zombie was still a sale and this sales associate was a hardcore romantic who'd love a chance to make her mark on one of the Arena couples. She shipped it all: Katniss/Peeta, Julie/R, Howard/Eponine, Maximus/Wyatt – you name it, she gushed and giggled about it to all her friends. Now she eased her way around R’s shoulder, this little short girl about Julie’s age who had shaved half her head and replaced it with shimmering tattoo scales, today in District 12’s reds and blacks. Her nametag glittered with ABELIA across it. R hadn’t even heard Abelia pop up until now, the zombie giving a slow start in surprise.
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The shy smile behind his muzzle grew a little wider, softening despite his rigor mortis muscles. With Julie here, sometimes he felt like he wasn’t rotting, like maybe he could go with a good tan and fresh clothes and that the muzzle was only there for looks.
“You…liked it?” R’s rattling voice was surprised, then pleased, because the clothes a zombie died in were one of the few solid clues about who they were. It was one of the few personal things left. He’d sometimes felt self-conscious about his: a ratty hoodie compared to M’s nice suit, holes that probably were there even before the apocalypse. Now Julie was saying she liked the “look” (he had a look?) and that made R miss his hoodie even more now. “I…agree. Find...more…like it?”
“You would look both adorable if you tried matching colors,” said the voice behind R’s shoulder. “Trust me.”
By now they’d attracted attention – they might not be the most popular Tributes out there, but a girl and her zombie was still a sale and this sales associate was a hardcore romantic who'd love a chance to make her mark on one of the Arena couples. She shipped it all: Katniss/Peeta, Julie/R, Howard/Eponine, Maximus/Wyatt – you name it, she gushed and giggled about it to all her friends. Now she eased her way around R’s shoulder, this little short girl about Julie’s age who had shaved half her head and replaced it with shimmering tattoo scales, today in District 12’s reds and blacks. Her nametag glittered with ABELIA across it. R hadn’t even heard Abelia pop up until now, the zombie giving a slow start in surprise.