[sylvanSpider]

Yoruba kept with the mode of silence, barely making a sound as she went through the various parts to see what she had to work with. Likely, she'd have to rummage through cars and the like to pick up more parts, but if she could form the base of whatever would come of it. The tension was thick in the air, Yoruba pensive at her having to admit defeat, and Emily broken from the recent death. She picked up a few specific parts, rearranging them by category so she could take stock of what they had. Things were looking bleak. There would not be much ammo unless she could find a way to turn more common finds into it, but she'd be able to create a few flash pods, at the very least. Still, she was worried about time. One day was not going to be enough time, and she hoped Anna realized that. She'd tell her, but she hated her.

Emily's hand rest on Max's head, giving his favorite spot behind the ears a scratch whenever he whined, but her eyes stared straight ahead. She only was shaken out of her revery when Anna came to sit down beside her. “A month, maybe two. The exact date is in his journal,” Emily responded, voice soft, barely audible, and cracked. She'd spent the past while trying not to cry – and she'd failed. A tear slid down her cheek and she shook her head, “But since I met him, we'd been inseparable.” She mustered a smile, running a hand through her hair, “He actually caught my lame ass jokes.” Her eyes drifted to the last bit of meat that Victor caught and she sighed, looking back down, “I'm not really hungry.”