Isaac's lips drew into a line. Zombies. He remembered fighting re-dead back in Weyard. It was not pleasant nor did it smell nice.

"Well," his voice was soft as he usually was when he spoke to strangers, "I'm sure nothing is going to happen today."

Although he really wished he could watch the festivities.

"So...if you're on patrol..." the seventeen year old began, "why are you just staying here?" He laughed.