Forest led the three travelers through the gate and onto his property, locking things up behind them. Lex felt as though he were a character in a particularly bad B-horror movie, stumbling upon what was supposed to be a safe haven. In approximately fifteen minutes of screen time, after everyone had managed to build a shaky understanding and plant the first few seeds of trust in the vitamin-depleted earth of Forest's farm,<i>something</i>would come along to rattle that rickety foundation. Something might get stolen. An animal might turn up dead. Forest would come to grow suspicious of the trio of wanderers, despite the fact that none of them would actually be at fault for the strange goings-on around the farm. It would be something else. Something nefarious. Something<i>unnatural</i>.<br/><br/>Or, at least, it<i>would be</i>if their lives were actually taking place inside of the written boundaries of a screenplay. But Lex knew he wasn't so lucky. The world didn't go to shit because of zombies, or aliens, or monsters. The world had descended into chaos thanks to humanity's hubris and a particularly aggressive virus. Nothing more, nothing less. There were scavengers around. Members of a now dead society who had taken to the apocalypse well enough, crafting their own sets of rules and harboring a new code of morals clothed in shades of gray. They were the only enemies any of them had to watch out for. This wasn't a horror movie. Simply a long, drawn-out story of survival that would end with their bodies left in shallow graves, assuming they didn't outlive the virus. An unlikely outcome.<br/><br/>After taking a moment to rinse off the dirt that had caked itself beneath his outgrown nails and in the lines of his palms, Lex and the others followed Forest into the spacious farmhouse. It was strange being inside of a home that hadn't been completely abandoned. Back in the city, groups of roving scavengers lived in old banks, office buildings, anything reinforced with steel and locks to keep them safe as they slept. Houses in the suburbs were nothing more than empty shells, picked clean of anything useful. Sometimes a rare, serviceable item could be discovered buried in the rubble, but not often enough to keep him, Mason and Wallis around the old neighborhoods for very long. Forest's house, aside from the quiet, looked as if the end of the world had yet to touch it. Lex found it both comforting and eerie, though any feelings of apprehension were quickly pushed aside at the sight of food in the kitchen.<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Lex said quietly in his distinctive English lilt, taking a fat carrot from the pile of raw vegetables on Forest's kitchen counter. He appreciated the familiar crunch as he sank his teeth into the orange vegetable, watching in silence as Forest went about throwing various items into a pot so he could whip up what looked to be some kind of stew. He and Mason traded words back and forth, building upon that old relationship they shared from a time before the end, and all the men went outside at Forest's prompting so Mason could stoke up a flame.<br/><br/>Forest's attempt to make conversation while Mason worked wasn't quite as welcome as Lex would have preferred. His previous profession as a model had not prepared him for struggling for survival and Mason never let him forget that little fact. He couldn't farm, couldn't fight, couldn't shoot. Lex knew how to pose and sell garments, how to walk down a runway, how to convey intense emotion with only his eyes and a soft, parted pair of lips. Nowadays, his looks were only good as a means of tempting Mason and Wallis, endearing him to them so they would protect him when chaos erupted. Though he hoped otherwise, he heavily suspected his affections wouldn't be as successful with the stiff farm boy.<br/><br/>“I was actually a model. You know, click, click, love,” Lex laughed, holding up his hands and miming taking a photograph with an invisible camera. “Once upon a time, that might have been impressive to someone.” Lex chanced a glace at Forest, admiring the stubble lining his sharp jawline. He slowly moved to sit down on the porch steps beside him. “I had left London for a job in Atlanta. Was only supposed to be in America for a few weeks. Decided to stay longer so I could explore the great American south. Quite a reputation you all carry, you see. I might have been back in England now if I hadn't extended my visit. Though I doubt things are much better over there. It is been a long while since I've had the opportunity to hear some international news.<br/><br/>“I assume this was your family's farm?” he asked, wishing to steer the conversation away from his former life and onto Forest instead. Potentially begin to wear down that thick wall Forest had constructed around himself. “Just you and your dog, hm? Must be difficult for you. Are you lonely here, all by yourself?”