It is probably worth mentioning now that Weston is a sucker for antiques; the rifle he uses is an M1 Garand which was a pretty damn rare find especially in this day and age. It definitely was not something you would find on the shelves in a weapon store anymore even in the underground market and ammunition was also pretty rare. But he didnâ€™t care how rare the gun and ammunition were, he was going to hold onto the gun until the day he dropped dead. His great grandmother had passed the rifle, which belonged to some ancestor who had served in World War II, down to him before she passed so you could say it was probably the only memento he has of not only her but his family as well. There was no way in hell he was giving it up. No, his enemies would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands if they wanted this gun.<br/><br/>â€œItâ€™s a .30 caliber round,â€ he replied when she asked what kind of ammunition his rifle took. Being the kind of person who could go on all day about rifles and such he had to bite his tongue so he wouldnâ€™t start rambling about how much he truly loved that gun. Being distracted by the food that was brought out to him also helped him redirect his focus a bit more. It really has been awhile since he has had something good to eat, and seeing the tacos, well he couldnâ€™t help but give a smile of appreciation. His hazel eyes scanned over the food like a kid in a candy store. Not even the food he and his men, whatever group he was running with that week, looked this good since most of it was either scavenged or they had to fight over it.<br/><br/>What felt differently about this was that he didnâ€™t have to worry about someone or something coming up and stealing from him and that brought a sense of relief. He may not be sitting down and eating with his family or friends, but from what he could tell Yuri was probably the closest thing he has had to that in a long time. It was nice, and as he looked at his food he thought back to his old friends. Most of them were dead or have become Hell mutants, others were still alive out there somewhere. A small part of Weston really wished he could meet up with them but he knew that might never happen. It has been too long, and hell, maybe the ones he knew were alive were actually dead. In a world like this it wouldnâ€™t be surprising but he really didnâ€™t want to think about it.<br/><br/>After he finished chewing his food, he spoke again, going back to what she had said before, â€œNo, Iâ€™ll be fine, no need to bring me something to read. I need sleep anyway.â€ He paused for a few seconds, and then said, â€œYou think Iâ€™m a funny person? Thatâ€™s funny, most people consider me annoying but hey Iâ€™m not going to complain.â€ It was not everyday where he met someone who liked his sense of humor, if you wanted to call it that. His humor was part of his personality and the reason why a lot of times people said there was never a dull moment around him. However, he was also a little skeptical about being friends. Over the years this war has made him a skeptical person who was not quick to make friends; he use to be a hell of a lot more outgoing but now he usually kept to himself.<br/><br/>No use opening up to someone and calling them your best friend when theyâ€™re just going to end up dead in his opinion.<br/><br/>â€œI donâ€™t think friendship will be impossibleâ€¦ this war has just done a hell of a good job damaging us. Time will tell in the end, but I donâ€™t think itâ€™ll be impossible. Youâ€™ve been good to me so far,â€ He told her honestly, flashing a smile. â€œI donâ€™t mean to sound like Iâ€™m preaching, but if you ask me you should just be yourself. You have a lot of weight on your shoulders and, well, I think you should lighten up every once in awhile. Might make it seem more bearable.â€ He gave a shrug, realizing that he probably did sound a bit like a preacher and that rambling was probably going to be inevitable. It was just another part of his personality. Sometimes he could be obnoxious and ramble on but it seems what he said about war damaging him was true. Weston wasnâ€™t anywhere near as obnoxious as he use to be but it was still there from time to time since he does act like a kid.<br/><br/>All that humor seemed to slip away suddenly once his hunger was satisfied. He really didnâ€™t want to be sitting here recovering, he wanted to get back in the fight, go back to the surface. Maybe it was a bit sad, but he had become so use to that life that it soon became all he knew. He enjoyed it even if this war was an ugly one. Would there ever be a time where humanity was restored? Not a second went by where he hasnâ€™t thought of thatâ€¦ Perhaps there was no hope, but he knew better than to think that way. Yuri and the rebels seemed hell bent on getting things back to the way they were so perhaps he should join in.<br/><br/>â€œAlright, you know what,â€ Weston sapoke again suddenly, â€œonce Iâ€™m back on my feet you can count me in.â€