After a few ridiculous dance moves, the shotgun was empty. Making a pouty face, the Joker holstered his pistol and withdrew a gloveful of shells from his jacket. Hurriedly stuffing them into the gun, he glanced up to see that shock of blonde hair moving toward him.
No, not toward him... toward one of the ghosts. One that looked like she didn't belong.
His gaze moved over the pile of mangled zombie corpses piled all over the parking lot, then back to the collapsed entryway of the department store. The whole sight of it made him grin. It was almost a sort of tableau, an artwork that showed what Nesreca might have looked like the night all hell had broken loose. How he wished he could have been there.
With the shotgun fully loaded, he drew his pistol again and rested the barrel of the pump-action over his shoulder. He sauntered in his odd, wobbly fashion toward Fay, taking an angle off from the focus of his attention in a meager attempt to get him by surprise.
no subject
No, not toward him... toward one of the ghosts. One that looked like she didn't belong.
His gaze moved over the pile of mangled zombie corpses piled all over the parking lot, then back to the collapsed entryway of the department store. The whole sight of it made him grin. It was almost a sort of tableau, an artwork that showed what Nesreca might have looked like the night all hell had broken loose. How he wished he could have been there.
With the shotgun fully loaded, he drew his pistol again and rested the barrel of the pump-action over his shoulder. He sauntered in his odd, wobbly fashion toward Fay, taking an angle off from the focus of his attention in a meager attempt to get him by surprise.