She nods, real slow. If she doesn't think, oh, he's just some other prick like her dad and Matt, he's easier to read. That, she thinks, was her blind spot. She's usually better at this, usually better at avoiding situations where it feels like the floor dropped out from under her and her next stupid mistake will be her last.

She doesn't know what makes this guy tick, but if he's anything like most living humans left on the face of the Earth, she guesses he likes feeling right and being cooperated with.

"I won't try nothing," she says, real careful, "unless you do."

She holds out her hand to take the bag, taking it nice and slow like you would in front of a wild animal.