"A little," he said, inching closer.
Lana's breath caught.
His face was right in front of hers now.
Close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips — warm, a little nervous.
Hers probably smelled like apple, but who cared?
Her heart raced, cheeks heating up like she'd been caught microwaving something metal.
Did he… want to kiss her?
Because if he did… she wasn't saying no.
After all, he'd saved her. Protected her. Let her wear his hoodie, which currently smelled like faint sweat, smoke, and vague cinnamon. The trifecta of hero musk.
Her heart pounded harder as his arms moved — trailing downward — and her body tensed up slightly, butterflies turning into pterodactyls.
And then.
He pulled out —
A pack of potato chips.
No.
Three.
Three whole, mostly-intact packs of apocalypse-flavored salvation.
Lana blinked. Her brain short-circuited.
She couldn't decide if she was relieved, disappointed, or just very aware of her growling stomach.
Ash grinned, the faintest blush still on his face. "Thought I lost these when I was doing my 'stab a demon with a log' bit. Thank god for kangaroo pockets."
He handed her two of the packs, casually cracking open the third like he hadn't just built the tension of an entire CW drama.
"There's your dinner," he said. "Be honored. These are premium mid-tier gas station chips."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he walked out the door and left her alone in the darkness of the shack.
A beat passed. She blinked again.
"…Did he flirt with me… and then chip-block me?" she whispered to herself.
...
Outside, Ash took a long, slow breath and looked around.
The blue shimmer of the [Safezone] glowed like a sci-fi forcefield wrapped around the structure, an oddly comforting visual in the hellscape outside.
The wind smelled like ash and rust, and the sky looked like it hadn't decided if it wanted to be night or nuclear winter.
"At least there's one good thing about this place," Ash muttered.
Then came the screeches.
High-pitched. Wet. Wrong.
Ash turned his head slowly.
A pack of demonspawns sprinted toward the shack, twisted arms dragging behind them, fangs bared, claws scrabbling against the ground like cracked talons on concrete.
"Of course," he muttered. "Can't even eat chips in peace."
They reached the Safezone barrier and —
BAM!
BANG!
SKRRRCH!
Claws and teeth slammed into the barrier, sparks of blue energy flaring with each impact. But the barrier didn't falter. Not even a flicker.
Ash exhaled. "Nice."
He eyed his sword — the demon one he'd gotten after his not-so-graceful lumberjack kill earlier.
It pulsed faintly, as if aware of the approaching danger.
He could go out there and slice a few of them down. More XP, more loot.
Maybe bump up his rank. Get a god's attention.
Get a new god-blessed hoodie that didn't smell like smoke and desperation.
But then one of the demonspawns snarled louder than the rest.
Its eyes locked on him. Saliva oozed out in thick strings from its broken jaw.
It didn't just look hungry.
It looked personal.
Ash slowly looked down at his sword.
Then back at the demon.
Then back at the sword.
"Nah," he whispered, turning around. "Not today."
He calmly walked back into the shack like he hadn't just been sized up by something that probably collected eyeballs as a hobby.
Inside, Lana looked up from her chip pack.
"Everything okay out there?"
"Oh yeah," Ash said casually, plopping down next to her. "Just some locals screaming about the neighborhood HOA."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
They sat in silence again, chewing their dinner slowly.
Ash pretended he didn't hear the wet screeches and demon claws hammering the barrier every few seconds.
Lana pretended the shack didn't smell like it'd been abandoned since medieval times.
And then Ash asked a question.
"Since we're going to be together," Ash started, leaning back against a cracked support beam, "can I know your class?"
Lana blinked, clearly caught off guard. "You want to see mine first?"
"Yeah, but I'll show you mine too," he said, already pulling up his status screen.
He tilted his hand upward and materialized the glowing blue screen like some kind of budget sci-fi magician. "Don't laugh."
He turned it around for her to see:
[Assigned Class: Basic Negotiator]
[Class Description: You talk. Sometimes it helps.]
Lana stared.
Then blinked.
Then slowly started to cover her mouth — before bursting out laughing.
"The apocalypse really is out to kill you," she said between giggles.
"Okay, look — " Ash said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Not everyone gets to be a Sword Saint or Apocalypse Assassin or whatever on day one."
"No, but Basic Negotiator?" she snorted. "That's like a glorified insurance agent."
Ash frowned. "Well at least I'm licensed to talk things out while running for my life."
She giggled again, and then with a soft sigh, pulled her own glowing screen into view.
She hesitated only briefly before flipping it around for him to see.
[Assigned Class: Echo Dancer]
[Class Description: A nimble spellblade that flows between sound and silence. Graceful strikes amplified by rhythm. Moves faster the more she fights.]
Ash blinked. "What the hell — how is that so cool? Why do you sound like a final boss and I sound like I'm here to talk to managers?"
Lana smiled a little, modest despite the literal glowing praise from the system. "I guess I got lucky."
"No kidding…" Ash muttered, staring at her screen. "Echo Dancer? That's like — anime-level badass."
He looked back at his own screen, sighing. "Meanwhile I'm over here convincing demonspawn to consider their options."
"Maybe you'll negotiate your way into surviving," she teased, tossing a small chip at him.
"Don't underestimate the power of mild conversation," he said with mock pride as he caught the chip. "I once talked a professor out of failing me."
"Did you also offer her a potato chip?"
"No, I offered to cry in front of the whole class."
She laughed again.