World of the Dead [REWRITING]

If being in an apocalypse had taught her Quinn anything about herself, it was that she was the type to choose "flight" not "fight". She though it was reasonable, since there were just so many things that could go wrong in a fight. But she also liked to think that whenever she did have to fight, she did fairly well.

Now she starting to rethink that assessment.

This time, for some reason, her brain chose that the best way to defend herself was to chuck whatever she was holding at the guy as hard as she possibly could. Which happened to be the undamaged, still sealed jar of tomato sauce.

Seeing the jar soaring towards his head, the guy let out a yelp and jumped to the right. They both watched the precious food fly into the darkness, and after a moment the sound of glass shattering and liquid splashing could be heard. Both of them winced at the loud noise. Quinn felt regretful and stupid for hurling away a potential meal, but then she remembered the whole reason she did so. Scrambling to her feet, she raised her bat in a ready position. Why didn't I do this in the first place?  She silently chastised herself.

"Whoa, wait hold on! I'm friendly!" He exclaimed, raising his hands in a non-threatening way. Or it would've been if he wasn't holding the crowbar.

He must have realized this, because he lowered it to the ground while watching Quinn closely. He doesn't trust me either, she thought. 

"I don't want trouble," he said, straightening. "Sorry for sneaking up on you, that's on me."

Quinn eyed him warily. He looked...pretty normal, actually. He had warm umber skin, dark eyes, and a face that she would describe as friendly looking. His dreadlocks were in a ponytail but looked like they'd reach just past his shoulders. He was wearing a purple and black jacket with large pockets, jeans, and orange sneakers.

"I don't want trouble either," she said, slowly lowering her bat. "Sorry for uh, throwing a jar at you."

To her surprise, he let out a small laugh. "Yeah, not what I expected you to do. Since, you know, you have a bat and a knife by the looks of it," he gestured to the holster on her leg.

"I panicked," Quinn admitted. "But you startled me! Plus, a lot of people I've seen aren't very friendly."

"Oh god, yeah I know. Every time I see someone, they're usually killing someone else or doing some other crazy crap. Whole place has gone nuts," he grumbled.

"You can say that again," she muttered.

He grinned. "This is great. I haven't talked to someone for so long. I was kinda worried I'd go insane." He extended his hand. "I'm Spencer. Spencer Morris."

Quinn took his hand and shook it. "Quinn Davison. And, yeah, talking to someone again is nice. It's been a while."

There was a slight pause as both of them were unsure what to say next. Or at least, Quinn was. She hadn't realized that not socializing for so long would make her feel awkward now that she had the chance to again.

"So uh, since I'm guessing we're both here for the same reason, you wanna search the store with me?" he asked. "You know, safety in numbers and all that."

She hesitated. Yeah, he seems nice, but we just met. He might have other people around, she thought, glancing around nervously. The possibility that everything he said was a lie was terrifying. The very last thing she wanted was to get ambushed and robbed, or worse.

Then again, he might be alright. And it would be great to be around another person again.

"Sure, why not. This place is pretty creepy," she decided, hoping silently she wasn't making a mistake.