A broad and handsome grin cracked across the survivalist's seemingly, perma-tanned face. His genetics boasted of something different - something more than just the average white guy because of his abnormal skills and strengths ... even enough to take down wild aliens. The smile that split through his pain was Johnny's joke about the brochure, in which he promptly shook his head -- a 'nope' fashion. With this, Lucy was holding his hand and speaking to the child and for the first time, she spoke back.
"Well, lil'un -- I'd say you're about ten miles or something under the earth's surface, stuck with us. There's a few others around here somewhere, and the fire -- err ... the red head went to fix the power, which seems to be comin' back. Where the hell are those damn medic robots when you actually need them, instead of stickin' us when we're not expecting it?!" Mark looked around swiftly and then back to Johnny.
"I think we should get her up on one of these tables and see if there's an auto pilot doctor around here somewhere. She needs to be checked out -- especially on her size." Mark turned to Lucy after hearing her whispers and answered her softly back, blowing in her ear childishly -- a smile on his lips, "Can you suture up my back? You have a chef's hands - just put a needle in them. And we should go take a peek to see what's in that room off the kitchen too -- if you say there's another, with these lights on ... it's fair to say it's dead or pissed to high hell."