She didn’t reply.  Her brows knit together and she undid her jacket and stepped away from him.

“Don’t mess with my look.”

He went on, “I can give you directions to the nearest shelter if you want. It’s new, just a little ways up Lord street here.  There may be space.”

Would that be the one Tattletale runs? I think so.

“I’m staying with some people.”

“Do you need directions?”

She didn’t reply.  She studied him instead.

Heh. If this is Bonesaw, I think we’ve met most of those “some people” recently.

“If you’re willing to wait, I can give you a ride when I’m done here.  I’ll get relieved in five or ten minutes, but we could talk in the meantime.  You can sit in my jeep, and you’ll be dry.”

Hmm.

This is beginning to toe the line to potentially creepy. Then again, this is the same guy who just shot down the POV character by bringing up the age difference, and I suppose this is a reasonable thing to suggest out of altruism in this situation. It’s just that it kinda seems a bit too persistent at this point?

“I have a daughter about your age,” he replied, smiling tightly.

Heh, yeeah, he might be a bit too old for you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.  Do you think I’m pretty?”  She stepped even closer, ran her finger down his chest.

My mostly unfounded wariness is growing.

“Yes, but-” he paused, gripping both sides of her jacket.  He pulled the jacket together, then did up her zipper all the way to the top, around the heavy box that dangled around her neck.

“Get that cleavage outta my face, temptress.”

Also, this “heavy box” sounds interesting.

“That’s all the more reason for you to be careful, understand?  Do you have a home or a shelter you’re staying at?”

This poor man is just trying to do his job and make sure this teenager he just met gets home safely.

I suppose maybe Bonesaw is causing havoc and the military has been called in to keep civilians away from the danger zone?

Crazed, kooky, cracked, crazy,
Nutty, barmy, mad for me…

At first I thought this might be some sort of power that tells our POV character – who is still nameless, incidentally, maybe we’re setting up for some reveal surrounding her identity – about the people she’s looking at and/or what their mental state is.

But then I realized it’s just the music, unless Wildbow’s awkwardly switching up what italicized paragraphs mean in this chapter. Another love song, too, if I’m not mistaken.

The crooning sounded artificial coming from the earbuds that dangled from her hand, nasal.

Yeah.

It wasn’t as though she was in a rush.

Yeah, this walk has seemed fairly relaxed. It’s a fairly calm scene for now, though I have a feeling that’ll change. Question is just how long it takes before Bonesaw, the Newbie or Hatchet Face gets involved here.

She’d walked long enough for six songs to start and finish before someone stopped her.

Oh, hello.

“Miss.  Miss!”  He was barely audible over her music.

Was she about to walk into the road or an open manhole or something because she was paying too much attention to the music?

She turned and saw a man in military gear, forty-something, his face heavily lined.  He wasn’t wearing a helmet, he had a short buzz cut, a bit of scruff on his cheeks and chin, and his face was beaded with droplets of water.

Hm. Restricted area? Or is this guy working for someone less official, like Coil?

I don’t think this is Hatchet Face.

She pulled out her earbuds.

Especially since we got to the end of that paragraph without any mention of the scars that give him his name.

She supposed she could have bought something to coil up the cord of the earbuds, or replaced the music playlist instead of deleting everything that didn’t appeal.

Hm. Old phone, or stolen?

It wasn’t like she didn’t have money.  It was an option.  What stopped her was the fact that she had a pattern going.  Everything she owned and everything she used day-to-day was stolen.

Yep. So she refuses to replace the playlist entirely because not just the phone but the playlist, too, is stolen, whereas a new playlist would break the c-c-c-combo.

Also this puts a pretty hefty third nail in the coffin of “is this Amy”.

The shirt on her back, her shoes, the music, her laptop.  She kind of wanted to see how far she could get before she caved and actually bought something.

Hehe, nice.