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Bang! A gunshot rang through the air, and Chris watched as the zombie’s head burst open and she flopped down onto the ground, only a gashing bleeding wound where her neck previously connected to her head. He averts his eyes- despite seeing it often, he still found it unpleasant to witness death. Chris tucks the shotgun under his jacket, strapping it to his side and patting it. Just to make sure.
“Woah,” Oswald marvels, turning to look up at the static man. “How’d you hit a headshot so easily? Jeez, it’s like you were in the army or sumthin’…” Chris tilts his head.
“It’s not anything special,” He shrugs, pausing when he sees the pout on Oswald’s face. “You could try it. If that’d be anything.” Chris dug into his pack, tossing Oswald a lightweight pistol and watching him fumble to catch it with amusement. He continues watching Oswald inspect the firearm, touching it gently as if he’d never seen something like it before.
“Huh.” He purses his lips, glancing behind them. There’s still more zombies slowly lumbering towards the pair. Slowly, but surely. He raises the gun, and fires a shot into one of the undead, being rolled back due to the firepower of the pistol.
“That’s too bad,” Chris hums, walking behind Oswald to catch his wheelchair. “You only hit the torso. For these chicks, you gotta hit the head. Y’know, like in Wild Zero.” He leans over Oswald’s shoulders, tenderly placing his hands on the back of the other man’s— guiding his fingers to properly grip and aim the weapon at the undead babe’s head. Oswald can feel the heat— or now that he thinks of it, lack thereof— radiating off of Chris. The fact he doesn’t feel as upset as he should at this proximity makes him deeply, deeply uncomfortable.
“Quit shaking, would you?” Chris grunts, suddenly gripping onto Oswald’s wrist so that his hand steadies. Oswald yelps, before covering it up with an inhale. “Now fire.”
He does just that. Oswald watches in awe as the gunshot cleanly blows through the zombie’s dome, exposing bits of her skull that weren’t already visibly through her rotting skin.
“Damn! That felt like uhm-“ He snaps his fingers. “That felt like Counter Strike, but like… in real life. Yaknow?” Chris nods, acting like he knows exactly what Oswald is. He makes a mental note to ask Twyla or something what Counter Strike is when they get back to base. He stands up, stretching his back, and pats Oswald on the head as a silent congrats for his headshot.
“Let’s see if there’s anything else worth looting and get outta this dump, alright?” He said, before grabbing onto the handle of Oswald’s chair and beginning to push him away.