<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Roger chuckled and shook his head. "I think you're fucking crazy, but I'm down for it. Never thought I'd be a survivalist and here I am. Don't think I could ever be a cowboy, but who knows?"<br/>
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He fell quiet for a long time and the amusing thoughts about wrangling farm animals started to turn into restless, dark feelings. He felt trapped. He knew everyone probably did, but that didn't make him feel any less so; he was probably just the worst at handling it.  <br/>
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"Hey, G?" he started after the long silence, his expression darkened with the bleak thoughts his mind had plummeted to. "You ever just want to get the hell out of here? Just kick down the door and leave screaming? You're probably too together for that and I'm probably too in my crazy head most times. This run will be good. Let's make it a long one. Even if we find some supply jackpot in the first ten miles, I don't want to come back right away. The walls around here, the people; I'm just sick of them."</span>