When it ended for her, and the screen suddenly showed a snarling zombie face and splashes of red, she felt it like an ice cube down her back.
"Oops," Shane said, and kept on firing. "Sorry. Some days you're the zombie, some days you're the meal. Good try, kiddo."
She put the controller on the couch cushions, and watched him play for a while. "Shane?" she finally asked.
"Hang on - damn, that was close. What?"
"How did you get on Monica's - "
"Shit list?" he supplied, and drilled a few dozen bullets into a lunging zombie in a prom dress. "You don't have to do much, just not crawl on your belly every time she walks in a room." Which, she noticed, wasn't exactly an answer. Exactly. "What'd you do?"
"I, uh...I made her look stupid."
He hit some control and froze the game in mid-scream, and turned to look at her. "You what?"
"Well, she said this thing about World War II being about the Chinese, and - "
Shane laughed. He had a good laugh, loud and full of raw energy, and she smiled nervously in return.
"You're feistier than you look, C. Good one." He held up a hand. She awkwardly smacked it. "Oh, man, that's sadder than the video game thing. Again."
Five hand smacks later, she had mastered the high five to his satisfaction, and he unfroze the video game.
"Shane?" she asked.
This time, he sighed. "Yeah?"
"Sorry, but - about your sister - "
Silence. He didn't look at her, didn't give any indication he'd heard a word. He just kept on killing things.
He was good at it.
Claire's nerve failed. She went back to her textbook. It didn't seem quite as exciting, somehow. After half an hour, she bagged it, stood, stretched, and asked, "When does Michael get up?"
"When he wants to." Shane shrugged. "Why?" He made a face and narrowly avoided getting his arm clawed off on-screen.
"I - I figured I might go back to the dorm and get my things."
He hit a button, and the screen paused in midshot again. "What?" He gave her his full attention, which made her heart stutter, then pound harder. Guys like Shane did not give mousy little bookworms like her their full attention. Not like that.
"My stuff. From my dorm room."
"Yeah, that's what I thought you said. Did you miss the part where the cops are looking for you?"
"Well, if I check in," she said reasonably, "I won't be missing anymore. I can say I slept over somewhere. Then they'll stop looking for me."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"No, it isn't. If they think I'm back in the dorm, they'll leave me to Monica, right? It could be a few days before she figures out I'm not coming back. She could forget about me by then."
"Claire - " He frowned at her for a second or two, then shook his head. "No way are you going over there by yourself."
"But - they don't know where I am. If you go with me, they'll know."
"And if you don't come back from the dorm, I'm the one who has to explain to Michael how I let you go off and get yourself killed like a dumbass. First rule of horror movies, C. - never split up."
"I can't just hide here. I have classes!"