<strong>Name:</strong>Giga<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Campsite<br/><strong>Summary:</strong>Cooking, Collecting The Gingers<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Maria, Noah<br/><br/>Giga watched his potatoes cook. He had a cover on his pot so that precious moisture would not escape. They could not afford it, given the scarcity of potable water in the world they lived in. When the potatoes were almost done, he went and got a few hunks of jerky from a jar on the back of his HMMWV, freeing them from a glass mason jar. He pulled up the lid and eased in the pieces of jerky into the boiling water. It was made from a deer, Giga thought. Maybe a cow. But probably a deer. This would sort of make a soup out of it. By the time the potatoes were done, they would have a nice, salty, smokey flavour to them from the jerky, and the jerky would be nice and soft. He would have liked to have Sara make some food but she had not emerged from the bus with everyone else, and as unobservant as Giga was, he could figure it out. With Dom out of sight, Giga just assumed that Sara was getting a hard cock in every hole on her soft, curvy body that Dom wished to abuse. It was sad about Devon - Giga was not really friends with the other raiders, none of them were friends, really, but Devon had been pretty good. Someone you could trust to practice good trigger discipline, keep their shit together when they made enemy contact, stay awake on watch, and all kinds of other little things that the raiders needed to do so that they all would not end up with cheeks parted for deepest, unlubricated rammings.<br/><br/>Giga had a pair of bowls, and a large metal serving spoon to go with the eating spoons in each bowl. He nudged the potatoes with the serving spoon, and they were good and done. The humongous raider turned off the feed of fuel to the stove, and the flame died as it was denied anything to burn. He left the pot where it was, not because he trusted the other raiders not to steal his food, but because they wanted to live more. Giga stood up and wandered on over to the table where Noah and Maria were sitting. The huge raider had no idea what Noah's issue was - his own first kill was so long ago and forgotten, and Giga had experienced less angst over it than either red-head experienced over breathing.<br/><br/><strong>"Noah, little one. Time to eat."</strong>Giga declared in his flat, deadpan tone. He looked at both of them, indicating that they were to follow him.<strong>"If someone else wanted you for something, they can take it up with me."</strong>Giga carried on, looking at Noah, in case the ginger boy tried to beg off by claiming another raider wanted the boy. Maybe Chris. But it did not matter, because unless it was Big Tim - Dom was out of this calculation by default; if Dom were unoccupied and a candidate for a claim on Noah in some way, Giga would reassess and care - then Giga just did not give a shit what the other raiders would want with Noah and they could just wait. Then the big guy wandered on back to his HMMWV and spot on the camp site. He sat down cross-legged, and set about filling the two eating bowls. The portions that Giga divvied up were generous both in the sense of how much food was served up and in comparison to every other raider, with the exception of perhaps how Dom fed his current favourite. It was probably more than either of the small red-heads could eat in one sitting, but Giga really had no idea. He had a portion for himself left in the pot that was a little bit more than all he had served up for the pair of red heads.<br/><br/>Giga removed his mask, undoing the straps that held it in place, and set it on the ground beside him. He started to eat with the big metal serving spoon, chewing thoroughly and staring at his food with dead blue eyes.