The air was crisp, and the soft glow of their makeshift campfire cast dancing shadows on the group as they sat in relative silence. The events of the day—the zombie horde, the petting zoo, and the raiders—had left them rattled but surprisingly intact. Greg poked at the fire with a stick, his expression uncharacteristically contemplative, while Clara meticulously cleaned her blade.
Mallory, sprawled out on a patch of grass, held Blinky close like a pillow. The little robot occasionally emitted a faint chirp, much to everyone's amusement.
Alex, however, was less amused. "Why is it," he began, breaking the silence, "that every time you get involved, Mallory, chaos follows?"
She tilted her head lazily to look at him. "Maybe the universe just likes to keep things interesting when I'm around."
"Interesting? You mean reckless," Alex countered. "That robot almost got us killed back there."
