A deep, pointless sigh. Exhaling, then inhaling dust and dirt. Eyes shut momentarily and Claire would have lifted two fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose, but she wasn’t about to do so and risk moving her hands from her gun. Her other hand removed itself from the cupboard, empty. This hotel served as a roof over their head — nothing else, nothing more and nothing less. In all reality, it meant nothing.
She was just about to move that free hand to the radio, to ask if Carlos or L.J. had found anything, but — creak — head suddenly spun to the right, towards the doorway. The leader swallowed thickly, before slowly straightening up. Both hands moved to the gun and Claire moved to the doorways slowly, cautiously. Just a hunter with the upper hand, ready to stalk the prey that was just in her way. The war of the undead made her so damn callous.
The woman spun around the corner, towards the sound.
The fact that her gun faltered slowly; wrist moving downwards very rarely happened. The shock was evident in her deep pair of eyes. That’s not a walker, that’s —
Claire pulled the trigger. That is, though. The slow moving, quiet paced undead that had just lurched from a near-by room was permanently dead, the remnants of a soft, decaying skull now littered all across the wall next to an actual woman and not a mirror she thought it was for a second.
“Thank y-” Her heart skipped a beat. Jessica — But within only seconds it occurred to her that it wasn’t a mirror but a flesh and blood person in front of her. With red hair. A set of grey eyes flicked over the face that should have only been in a mirror, and her brow furrowed.
She stood back, almost timid to approach the woman who had essentially saved her life. Post-human or not, she had really good aim, and it was strange to see someone here in this hotel, randomly.
Her eyes surveyed the doppelganger’s face with suspicion. It made her wary to see someone else who could have been her twin, especially after spending so long looking in mirrors and seeing herself stare back, but not herself. She wasn’t sure if this was just her mind — I have a tumor or something — or just a crazy coincidence.
“This is uncomfortable.” She moved her hand away from the gun it had been resting on, and swallowed hard. Letting her eyes take in the altered mirror image, she ran a hand through matted blond hair, breathing softly.
She didn’t know what else to say.