I scoot my ass out of the backseat of the cab and turn my best smile on Fox, pointing to the grocery store since I have zero food in my apartment. Not my apartment, but you know what I mean. He glances down at my bloody clothes and then to the grocery store, so I shrug to let him know that no one is going to care we’re covered in blood. They’ll probably assume it's a flash mob thing or something. Since he doesn’t object, I take his hand—I’m totally willing to risk death for some hand-holding—and lead him into the store. It’s the guns and ammo that cinches it for us. We get a lot of looks, but
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