[ This whole place is just ridiculously fancy. Sharp, shiny surfaces. Entirely too many windows. Carver doesn't bother acting like he doesn't belong, like his clothes aren't threadbare, like he hasn't mended them himself over years. Gotten bloody and fucked up in them. That ship has long since sailed. He wouldn't have belonged in a place like this even before the world fell but here they fucking stand, so this is happening.
He powers through. Moves - close to silently - into the kitchen.
And, wow. Okay. That's nice. And filled with groceries. He steps forward silently, examining everything. Everything he asked for. Nice versions of it, too. No packaged noodles, though. ]
Okay, [ he says after a moment. ] This will take longer than I thought.
[ He knows how to make noodles from scratch, but it takes longer. He hasn't had to do it in a while. ]
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He powers through. Moves - close to silently - into the kitchen.
And, wow. Okay. That's nice. And filled with groceries. He steps forward silently, examining everything. Everything he asked for. Nice versions of it, too. No packaged noodles, though. ]
Okay, [ he says after a moment. ] This will take longer than I thought.
[ He knows how to make noodles from scratch, but it takes longer. He hasn't had to do it in a while. ]