Written for Indie. Prompt at the end.

Her shoulders are slouched when he sees her. Everyone's are, but even with three layers of blood and make-up plastered to her skin, the way she slumps as she walks is kinda cute.

She grabbed his attention almost immediately, laughing with a couple who clearly only had eyes for each other. They've gone now, sneaked off somewhere barely seconds after the walk had started. She's third wheeling it tonight, he winces, he's been there, more than once, and it's not nice being ditched by your friends. Hers are clearly insane.

She's made it interesting for the first time in a while and he ambles closer, speeds up his shuffle, remembering at the last moment that his character has a broken leg (and there's not much point doing it if you're not going to stay in character) so he exaggerates the limp.

Maybe a little too much because on the next step instead of the smooth move of falling into stride beside her, he just falls into her, forcing her to catch him.

"ArghhhhHey! Hi" She barks, laughs in surprise, and her hands fly to his faded lapels as the tail end of her rumbling moan falls away. Her eyes startle to him, anger a sudden flare that fades instantly to something else. Something warm and tinged with glee.

She's laughing at him.

"Ow, sorry," he stands too tall, remembers his injury and corrects himself. The limp returns but he keeps hold of her arm a while longer trying to find his footing.

"S'ok." She shakes it off, but not him, in fact she steadies his pace and keeps walking, but the flash of amusement in her eyes has him intrigued.

"Don't break character, arghhh." The groaned and shuffled demand comes at them from a bespectacled librarian with one eye popped through the lens of his glasses. He grunts, wags a bony nail-less finger at them sternly and disappears, swallowed up by the hoard.

"Well, that's us told," she laughs, shakes her head and gestures between them, "you good?"

Oh, right, his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder.

"Yeah." He stands straight, loses a little of the limp so he can keep pace, she's tall, she walks fast, forcing him to keep up. "Cool blood spatter," he points to her arm and the large bite mark that's oozing at the bend of her elbow. Her white shirt and dark denim jeans are barely torn but the sprays of blood over her near pristine clothing is almost startlingly convincing. "Recently infected?"

"Thanks and yeah," she turns so he can see her face, the angles of her cheekbones caught in the moonlight. Only half of it has been cast in the mottled pallor of death. "Took me forever to get the skin right."

"Mid-transition, very nice."

"Not bad for an amateur." She grins, proud of herself. "You look like you've done this before -?"

"Rick."

"Kate." She offers back, following the crowd.

Nice name, he likes it, it suits her.

"So have you?"

"What?"

She laughs, "Done this before?" She waves a hand at his outfit, "You seem pretty put together." He is, in the three decades old and a couple seasons out of fashion suit and sideburns combo. "No last minute wig or leftover Halloween blood."

"Actually I make my own." He shrugs when her eyebrows rise. "It's pretty easy."

She whistles, "Impressive."

"Not what my daughter said." She laughs, but doesn't question, nor does she seem horrified at the prospect of a kid. Huh. Both are fairly new concepts. He walks a fine line between those that gush and want him to over share and those that make it pretty obvious they couldn't give a shit.

"How old?"

"Eleven going on forty." He grins.

"Fun age." She shrugs, simple as that.

"Young enough to still be corruptible, old enough to keep me in line."

"Your wife not do that?"

He catches her wince, thinks he hears the mumble of subtle under her breath and he bites his tongue.

Is she interested? He is, he most definitely is.

"Divorced." He shrugs, "You?"

"Never been divorced." She laughs, "Single."

A strange silence descends on them.

He breaks it, aiming for levity.

"This got weirdly heavy, really fast."

"Yeah."

"Subject change?"

"Agreed."

They speak at the same time. Oddly formal.

"What brought you zombie walking, Kate?"

"So, did your daughter not like the mess?"

They fall silent in shock, mouths open. Then awkwardness is replaced by laughter.

She smiles, "Yours first?"

He nods.

"Lanie, my friend," she explains, "just moved here and she doesn't know anyone in the city so I killed two birds with one stone, introduced her to my partner." She laughs, "Some thanks I get, I set them up and they ditched me." She shrugs, truly not caring anymore.

"Partner?"

"I'm a cop." She waits, perhaps expecting the same sort of response he gets when he mentions having a kid, being a single father.

His eyes light up, but he traps back the hundreds of questions that spring to mind, emitting only a slightly overly jubilant, "Cool," in response.

Her lips quirk at his enthusiasm, "Yeah, some days. There was a group of us at one point." She adds, as if only just remembering, eyes suddenly scanning the crowd.

His face falls, wondering if she's looking for an out. "Should you be getting back to your friends?"

"No, no, I think they all paired off." Kate throws out an elbow and jabs him in the side playfully, "Besides, you haven't told me why your daughter -?"

"Alexis."

"Why Alexis was less than impressed with you making fake blood. Was it the mess?" She teases. "Did you spill things?"

Yes.

"No, it was the smell." He laughs loudly at her reaction. Stock still with confusion and eyes wide, she stares him down as the sound he makes is loud enough to draw back their earlier companion.

He shushes them, tutting and clucking under his breath when it does nothing.

Rick tries to turn his laugh into a moan, a groan, anything that sounds vaguely dead like. It doesn't work, the noise he emits closer to a drunken elephant or a gastrically distressed monkey and it forces Kate to break her stoic mask, leaving her cackling at his side.

Several others around them throw looks, some smiles, a few questionable glances and the space around them begins to widen.

Are they being shunned by the undead?

They drop back slowly, escaping the glares and the rambling mass to try and regain their breath.

"You're gonna get us kicked out." She backhands his arm gentle and seeks composure.

"That was way more you than me." He counters, throwing the blame back at her. "That thing you did with your eyebrows was -"

She's glaring.

Oh, that's ridiculously hot, and not very well hidden under all that death makeup and plastic face paint.

He falls silently into step at her side, casually peeking glances at her when he gets the chance.

"So? The smell?" Kate asks eventually, voice an exaggerated whisper lest they be reprimanded again. Though something - maybe the glare, maybe the laughter - tells him she has quite the rebellious streak. And the looks she was throwing that one guy who shushed them? Downright devilish.

"Rick?"

Erm? Oh.

"It's a combination of Ketchup, Beet juice and -" his eyes narrow, looking her up and down, "- a secret ingredient."

She snorts, "I'm not gonna steal your recipe, but at least I understand why I've been craving fries since we met," her eyes flirt with his in a sideways sweep. "You had me thinking I was going crazy there, Rick."

They've only just met and he's already a little bit in love with the way she rolls her r's when she says his name.

"Well I'm glad you're smelling this version," he hisses his confession quietly, leaning toward her, "I burned the first batch."

"Bet that smelled great," she nudges him again as she grins, a strange intimacy given how short a time they've been talking.

It makes him bold.

"Er, Kate?"

"Mmm?" She stops when he does, confused but still smiling. That's good, might work for him in the long run if she finds him funny.

"Seeing as you've been ditched and I've been getting the evil eye from the zombie librarian for the last half an hour, d'you wanna skip out on this, and, um, maybe grab a coffee?" His eyes twinkle hopefully at the soft tilt of her head, the blush to the human flesh of her cheek.

"Dressed like this?" She laughs, deliberating before slipping her hand through his offered elbow. The zombies slope off without them and her breath catches when he stops them dead in the street, "We might turn a few heads."

The words leap out before he has a chance to stop them, "I have a feeling you do that wherever you go."

She blushes.

Would it be weird to tell a woman he's just met that her blood spatter glows beautifully in the moonlight?

"Shut up."

Good idea.

"Is that a yes?"

She doesn't answer, just growls, low and amused. Hot. Little scary. Definitely not breaking character this time as she shoves him away and chases after him.

Shit, she actually makes him run.

Her zombie skills are pretty deft. She catches him fast and links their hands together. Gnashing her teeth.

"Coffee's on me." He warns, turning her grin into a belly laugh when he states, "But if you wanna bite me, you gotta buy me dinner."

Prompt : AU - They meet at a zombie walk - love at first shuffle.