Charles groaned as he slipped off his armour, feeling lighter than he should without the comforting weight of his breastplate on him. His shoulder twinged as he lifted his gear onto the rack, and the painful memory of overextending his arm to smash his axe into a zombies head came rushing back to him. Rubbing the aching joint, he reminding himself to get it looked at if it still hurt in a few days.<br/><br/>Now dressed in a simple loose shirt and pants he made his way to the kitchens to grab a quick bite to eat before he turned in for the day. On the way he thought, as he sometimes did, of his time here. Ever since that terrifying night of blood and screaming this had been his home. In a way, he was proud of what he had helped accomplish, keeping these people safe. On the other hand, his thoughts drifted to what his life would be like. He would have graduated university by now, and be a fully fledged teacher for a whole year. Maybe he and Mallory would -<br/>He stopped himself there. "This is home now. These people are what matter." He told himself.  Grimly, he continued towards the kitchen.