Nate took a bite of the cold canned ravioli... he had not eaten anything as nasty for literary years. "Well, this is a taste one has to get used to. So, first of all, you seem to be doing great. Smart, cunning, wise enough to be stealthy and on top of it all beautiful. I am quite the lucky fellow to run into you not some crazy maniac. So here is the thing. If there is no government or gangs that run this place by now there will have to be one soon or people will just keep slaughtering each other. I commend you for the traps you have set and this place seems like a perfect hideout as well. I am not good with... people. And I don't think I can manage to survive on my own. But I know stuff. Like why can't you heat this stuff up? I can relatively easy make you an oven to heat this stuff up without any visible smoke... actually if you would give me enough time I could even manufacture bullets and get us working electricity. If you are fine with me staying here I would like to ride this out with you until some form of leadership arises. You know what they say... nine meals and any human can turn from a functioning member of society in literary a savage. So we should get as much food stored up as we can or soon we will be running through the streets in desperation like the gangs and the people killing each other..."