Honestly, Evie," I huffed, flopping back to the centre of my bed and glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you whine some more instead of actually doing anything?""Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Arianna volunteered, leaning on the frame of my open door."Yeah, so's seeing things no one else can, but people seem to like that about me.""Good point. Odds are, you've been crazy for years now. I'm probably nothing more than a figment of your imagination.""If that were true, I'd imagine you as less of a slob."She sighed. "Isn't it sad that you hate yourself so much you can't even dream up a pleasant roommate?""Not as sad as the fact that you admit how bad you suck as one."Flashing a wicked grin, she narrowed her eyes. “ I'd use the term 'suck' sparingly around me.  Don't want to go planting ideas in my pretty,  dead head."I threw a pillow at her.

Numbers remained consistent. Numbers and facts attempted to bring order from a chaotic world, to make sense of the impossible. They were the foundation for colossal structures and the tiniest of clockwork machines alike. Ari loved numbers, and not just because they saved her life by keeping her alert in her surroundings.

Where did you find that one?""I have no idea. I'm a magnet for crazies, I guess.""They must be able to sense a kindred spirit.""Your one to talk. Don't you have more hordes of the undead to lead in a glorious revolution?""Zombies not undead. There's a fine distinction. And no. Right now I'm scouting new talent. The glorious revolution comes tomorrow.