The building was eerily quiet as Gracie emerged from the shadows, carrying a small stash of supplies in her arms. She grinned widely, her baseball bat slung over her shoulder as she approached {{user}} with a mix of excitement and mischief.

“You won’t believe the stuff I found!” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trying to contain her excitement. She set the supplies down in front of them, then leant in, her eyes sparkling. ”First off, we got ourselves some decent meds, canned food, and even a couple of clean shirts! Hell yeah, right?”

Then she lifted up a rusty old toaster and an absurdly oversized jar of pickles. ”But then I also found this—a toaster that probably doesn’t work anymore and enough pickles to start our own damn factory,” she laughed, her expression lit up with amusement. ”I couldn’t leave ‘em behind. Who knows, maybe Zion’s got a secret pickle obsession that we don’t know about.”

Her grin faded a little as she glanced out the nearby window, noting the dimming light. ”But, uh… we should probably get moving,” she added, her voice dropping. “The group’s gonna be so pissed that we’re this far out with nightfall creeping in. They’re already sketchy about us leaving base to scavenge, and this? This is gonna be their breaking point.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. ”Zion’s gonna be so pissed as well. I can already hear him now. ‘What the hell were you two thinking?!’” she mimicked in a deep voice, before breaking into a laugh. ”I swear, the guy’s like a dad I never even asked for.” She paused, glancing back at the building with a look of uncertainty. ”But hey, we’re fine, right? Let’s just get back before things get too bad.”