Caelan kneaded his knuckles into his knee as Dusty pulled out of the scrapyard. The truck bounced as they rolled onto the main drag and started off towards the heart of the city. Today had been a long day, and he was glad to be approaching the end of it. He hadn’t imagined ever predicting the events that had happened today, nor would he expect anything like it to happen again. Five years had gone by without Caelan finding friendship in another human, as temporary as it might be. He wasn’t this lucky often.<br/><br/>“I<i>do </i>live there, and I do live alone.” He chuckled, glancing over at Dusty. Caelan hadn’t necessarily<i>picked </i>to live in the Constance Lofts, but it was home. More or less. “You have at least two guns, probably more. You haven’t tried to kill me yet.” He looked at Dusty with a shrug. “I’m not afraid to tell you where I live. It’s not safe at night, you know that much, and I assume I would have a better chance at taking you than the Vultures.” Caelan grinned. “I don’t think you’d hurt me. Not after today.” Even if Dusty had ulterior motives for driving him home, at least he would be done with playing this survival game.<br/><br/>He propped his elbow on the inside of the window and stared through the glass. Dusty was right, he wasn’t from New Orleans and he wasn’t made for this city, either. Not now, anyhow.<br/><br/>“I graduated from Tulane one year before<i>this </i>all started.” Caelan gestured to the rubble and ruin around them once Dusty parked the truck in front of the brick building. “I’m originally from Connecticut.” He could only guess what Dusty would think of that. “My family owns an orchard. I guess I felt that I wanted to get away from that life while I was young enough to not have many serious responsibilities.” Caelan licked his lips. What a mistake that had been. “I moved into this apartment with one of my college friends after graduation and found a part time job down the way.” Caelan found himself staring up at the building, trying to remember all of the good times shared inside while the large black silhouette stared down at them.<br/><br/>“My friend, uh, he caught the sickness. He could only fight it for eight days." Caelan swallowed and rubbed his hand over his face, silently shaking his head. "At that time, it had been so early on. I was like most people, unsure of what was happening and unknowing of what would happen. I decided to stay in New Orleans and ride it out.” He laughed, almost darkly. “Eventually, it was too late to leave. I’ve run out of options for getting back to Connecticut, so. Here I am.” Caelan exhaled and looked back to Dusty, pulling on a small smile as if he had accepted all of the cards he had been dealt. It had been so long since he last shared his sorrows with another.<br/><br/>“Let me get my bike out so you can be on your way.” He unbuckled himself and opened the door. In normal times, he would have watched out for other cars or pedestrians. Now, he would be surprised to see another car on the road, let alone at this hour. “You can lean the tires against the side of the building. I’ll come down to get them after I get my bike upstairs.” Caelan called over the back of the truck and walked to the tailgate. He pulled it down and hopped in the back to pass the tires and parts down to Dusty.