Xavier adjusted his grip firmly.
"We are driving. To return to the others. Safely."
"Of course."
"No diversions."
"Obviously."
"No provocative commentary."
Alvin placed a hand over his heart.
"I am wounded."
"You will survive."
They drove in tense silence for approximately thirty seconds.
Then Alvin sighed theatrically.
"You know what's tragic?"
Xavier refused to respond.
"All this unresolved romantic tension. In a car. With perfect lighting."
Xavier's knuckles went white.
"Alvin."
"Yes?"
"If you say one more word—"
"You'll what?"
The car suddenly jolted violently as a stray zombie stumbled out from behind an abandoned mailbox.
Xavier reacted instantly—sharp turn, controlled acceleration, tires screeching as the vehicle narrowly avoided collision.
The zombie spun dramatically in their wake.
Alvin blinked.
"…Okay, that one was not me."
Xavier's heart was hammering.
"You see?" he snapped. "Focus."
Alvin raised both hands again.
