Luther slowly became aware of a tightness around his fingers and looked down to find the gun wedged along the third digit of his index finger, the metal digging into flesh and making it bulge. He swore, pointing the gun at the ground as he attempted to extract it from his hand without setting off another shot, carefully minding the trigger until it was far enough down that he could flick on the safety without jamming his finger. It slid free as the woman gave her explanation, and he looked up at her with his brow furrowed and a slight squint as she wondered out loud why that door in particular led to zombies. It was a pretty good question, Luther had to figure, but a better one would be what the hell this hotel was and why it had doors that led anywhere other than outside or to another room.
He holstered his gun and was about to begin asking her just those questions when her hand came out for a shake and she introduced herself. He took her hand and found she had a good grip for someone so small and deceptively delicate looking, and was reminded of how he'd scooped her up and practically carried her through the door like a child on his hip. He cleared his throat. "John Luther," he replied. "It's nice to meet you, Joan. I'm sorry about that," he said with a vague gesture to the door. "I was afraid your shoes would slip on that floor and you'd fall."
While being 'gentlemanly' wasn't usually something that was high on Luther's list when his life was in danger, he had been raised correctly and he knew grabbing a woman up and carrying her off, even if it was to save her life, deserved an apology. She could've whacked him in the head with her baton for it, but she hadn't and he was grateful.
"I am a copper," he said, though he was long used to being asked that question. He'd had 'that look' about him since he was a boy, it would seem. "I can't figure out how the hell I wound up here, though. What is this place? I came through that door," he pointed to the door they'd just left, "but when I tried to go back through to where I came from, there was a goddamn zombie apocalypse."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-04-11 04:09 pm (UTC)He holstered his gun and was about to begin asking her just those questions when her hand came out for a shake and she introduced herself. He took her hand and found she had a good grip for someone so small and deceptively delicate looking, and was reminded of how he'd scooped her up and practically carried her through the door like a child on his hip. He cleared his throat. "John Luther," he replied. "It's nice to meet you, Joan. I'm sorry about that," he said with a vague gesture to the door. "I was afraid your shoes would slip on that floor and you'd fall."
While being 'gentlemanly' wasn't usually something that was high on Luther's list when his life was in danger, he had been raised correctly and he knew grabbing a woman up and carrying her off, even if it was to save her life, deserved an apology. She could've whacked him in the head with her baton for it, but she hadn't and he was grateful.
"I am a copper," he said, though he was long used to being asked that question. He'd had 'that look' about him since he was a boy, it would seem. "I can't figure out how the hell I wound up here, though. What is this place? I came through that door," he pointed to the door they'd just left, "but when I tried to go back through to where I came from, there was a goddamn zombie apocalypse."