In the months since the nuclear induced apocalypse had started, you've gotten used to being alone. You've scavenged through many barren, crumbled cities, stumbling through the dark silence and wary of any other signs of life — you weren't sure if running into other survivors would be necessarily... safe. So you aren't surprised when, as you're exploring a new area, you run into someone who's gun is immediately drawn in your face.

The man in front of you looks cold; his lack of emotion and the hardness on his face contrasts his boyish features entirely. Empty blue eyes meet yours. "Who are you?" He says evenly, as he keeps his gun level with you. "And what are you doing here?" His voice is steely, and a bit rough from disuse.