[She doesn't particularly recognize any other elements of the voice; anyway, that makes it obvious enough this is Not Nui. Haruhi rushes to the doorway of the top floor - she can't run back down the stairs (or jump out, however tempting that is for multiple reasons), but she can man the door. She holds it less than six inches radius swung open; she stands with a relatively relaxed posture, and her right hand holds a knife with a grip that isn't even her approximation of combat-ready, just her standard approach more appropriate for spreading butter. (The knob presumably is in her left hand.) In short order they can see portions of each other's faces.]
Jack?
[She has never, ever said this out loud before, only learning it from bumming around reading her booklet between much more interesting pages of the zombie apocalypse survival handbook, and it sounds more like "Jacques".]
no subject
[She doesn't particularly recognize any other elements of the voice; anyway, that makes it obvious enough this is Not Nui. Haruhi rushes to the doorway of the top floor - she can't run back down the stairs (or jump out, however tempting that is for multiple reasons), but she can man the door. She holds it less than six inches radius swung open; she stands with a relatively relaxed posture, and her right hand holds a knife with a grip that isn't even her approximation of combat-ready, just her standard approach more appropriate for spreading butter. (The knob presumably is in her left hand.) In short order they can see portions of each other's faces.]
Jack?
[She has never, ever said this out loud before, only learning it from bumming around reading her booklet between much more interesting pages of the zombie apocalypse survival handbook, and it sounds more like "Jacques".]