Both of the kids were taken into a tight embrace when they made their way toward Julian. He clung onto them both for a good long while, glad to be out of that mess, and above all else glad that they were okay. God only knows what could have happened to them if they hadn't gotten there quick enough. The very thought was enough to make him shiver. Eventually, his arms returned to his sides, and as they moved back toward Miguel, he undid the front of his work jumpsuit and slipped his arms out, tying the sleeves around the front of his waist to keep it on from the waist down. His arms, now bare, got a quick but thorough inspection to make sure there were no injuries he hadn't noticed in the heat of the escape. He was good -<span style="font-style: italic">thank you Jesus,</span>he thought - so he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. Even now, he felt his heart racing and his pulse pounding, but in the safety of their home, it became far less severe.<br/><br/>Since everyone was doing proper introductions, he offered the others a small wave. He would've smiled, normally, but right now wasn't really a good time for him or any of the others. "Julian, hey," He greeted. It was short, and silence fell over the room again. It was amazingly uncomfortable. After everything they'd just seen, all the death and destruction, they were safe. It felt surreal, almost, and without the instinctual voice in his brain putting survival at the forefront, fatigue and emotion over what had just happened came crashing down all at once. All his muscles ached, his stomach felt like it was constricting itself, and his vision became blurry as tears started to run down his face. He turned away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and went to the kitchen.<br/><br/>In there, he leaned over the sink and vomited. It was nearly empty, forced by revulsion from seeing those things finally reached its peak. For once, Julian was somewhat thankful he'd skipped over a big breakfast. When he was done, he turned the sink on and rinsed everything down, then washed out his mouth, his face, and his arms, trying to clean off the sweat that came from both the heat and fear during their journey home.<br/><br/>"God damn," He whispered to himself, drying his face off with the hand towel that looped over a rack next to the sink. There was a lot to think about now, where things would go from here and how long they'd be holed up. Did they even have enough supplies to support all these people? Even if so, for how long? Beyond that, he wondered how long their house's walls would even hold against a horde of the things if they were determined. He looked out the window behind the sink, watching the military men patrolling the roads. What they talked about, he couldn't even begin to imagine. The curtain was allowed to fall again, and he left the sink, ready to go back to the living room. Just before he turned the corner in, he stopped at the fridge.<br/><br/>After a few moments of scanning, he plucked a couple of cardboard six-packs from the top shelf, both of which were missing a few bottles already. One was beer, nothing too strong but at least worth offering to the people that had made it. A sign of hospitality in a time where he was sure they all needed something. The other was just soda. Even in a time like this, he was sure Miguel would disapprove of him giving the kids something alcoholic, and Julian was't much of a drinker himself. He set both packs down on the flat of the half-wall separating the kitchen counter from the living room, and offered bottles as appropriate to everyone. Maybe once they were a little more hydrated, they could figure out just what it was they were going to do.