Death was the only thing he could smell which led him to believe that there wasn't much to be found nearby. He never could walk very far, being as unfit as he was, so imagining scouring the place for miles for any other living thing or just food and water seemed rather tortuous to him. Couldn't they just find some way to kill themselves and have done with it? His limbs felt heavy, filled with rocks, lead, more dead bodies. Oh God--<br/><br/>He wiped his mouth again, stomach still convulsing despite just having given everything it had left. Good, he would starve first if thirst didn't claim him sooner. Didn't people die of thirst faster than hunger? Well they'd find out. It was supposed to be a painful death as well.<br/><br/>It was quite unlike him to be so morbid, those thoughts having ceased long ago when he'd turned his mind on everything but his home life and the lack of any strong male influence, but the situation was not leaving much room for optimism to squeeze in like a greased-up whore and work for its keep. So instead he felt his spirit sinking and his want to do anything, even move, dwindling rapidly. Of course when it came to these things he never got much say and soon he was yanked up by Heather as she squawked about something he wasn't really interested in hearing. His focus wasn't on her words, only that she bothered to make noise and make it loudly as she was prone to do whether in anger or joy. He had imagined the day they met she had been the loudest baby in the hospital, squalling at such a volume it made the nurses deaf and other newborns cry in aggravation of being outdone at only minutes old.<br/><br/>"Heather, really, do you think it matters? We're going to end up another fucking Donner party!" That was if any of them had the skills to build a fire if they couldn't find a Bic lighter amongst the dead. God, he couldn't even look at them now. It made his stomach churn and he was sure a major organ would be coming up in stomach acid's stead if he tried hard enough.<em>Oh what's that? Nothing, just a kidney. I have another one in there.</em><br/><br/>The voice became a silhouette, which then became a vague figure with discernible color differences to boast he wore clothes, and finally to an actual person. Seren eyed the newcomer with as much interest as one might eye a napkin on the table. He was no threat, clearly, but neither was he any sort of help. He had no supplies and he looked just as bedraggled as the two of them were, if not more so from wherever he'd woken up.<br/><br/>"Where's Polo?" Seren replied dryly, feeling no need to apologize for his poor humor. "The name's Seren, like it matters. This is Heather, the one that was screaming her lungs out like she didn't think there might be anything that could fucking eat us within hearing range, too. We have no supplies, we don't know what happened, and really I'm trying to find a nice Ruger off a cop, you game?"