"Murder board," Nat cracks an almost wistful smile, like she herself made them in a past life like some haggard conspiracy theorist instead of just watching far too many detective procedurals.

But Nat shifts so she can better make eye contact with Court, not wanting to be dismissive of her low mood. "It's not the stress and uncertainty of impending changes to the lifestyles we've all adapted to because of trauma for the sake of collaboration or the fact that everyone is pretty clearly burnt out and struggling, which makes a 10,000 strong zombie horde really bad timing?"

She sips at her water.