[ There it is again: Hella offers to continue hurting herself for him and his attention is right on her, almost like a predator sizing up its prey. There's the pragmatic benefit of having a source of food continually on call, something a full-blown zombie is incapable of comprehending that he still can; then there's the part where his friend is offering to hurt herself so he can drink his fill of her on a regular basis, and the part of him that's hungry keeps threatening to swallow the part of him that's horrified.

So Mark nods at her offer. Even the part of him that's horrified recognizes it's not worth arguing; Hella has her pride, her belief in her abilities, and he's just going to let her keep having them. Maybe it'll be easier on the both of them this way. ]

Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll let you know.

[ Not that he intends on taking her up on it for too long, because one way or another it would fall apart: either he snaps and tries to eat her entirely, or he catches himself before then and stops being a problem, period.

So... the deer. He follows her lead, peaking out of the bush to see that it's still there, still ripe for the picking. And he's still pretty hungry, if less salivating at the mouth, so... ]

... I think that'd be for the best. [ He swallows. ] I don't think anyone else at camp should really... see me like this.

[ Drinking blood is one thing, but who knows what he's going to end up doing to an animal carcass. He shivers a little in anticipation before ducking back behind the bush, turning to face Hella again. Normal, normal, please be normal... ]

I was going to try flying over to it, catch it by surprise, snap its neck. Quick and painless. [ His original plan had been to eat it alive. He's so far gone, isn't he. ] But I'll follow your lead, if you had another plan.

[ He's still human. He can still cooperate, still be a team player. He's still human — he can keep being that for a little while longer, surely. ]