"Oh, God, I didn't tell you, did I?" Wichita realizes, her fingers slipping from the bottle in question as Santana reaches to pry it from her grasp. She's distracted by the joint anyway, lips pursing around it as her cheeks hollow slightly and she holds the smoke in, breathing deep and then exhaling slow, finally breaking her cool with a chuckle that sounds all too happy, given the subject matter. "The world totally ended where I'm from," she clarifies, if only to feel the need to shed some light on her earlier verbiage. "Zombies, widespread pandemonium, global shutdown, et cetera, and so on and so forth."