The sun is close to setting over Clemen’s Point, leaving the entire camp to be covered in a pleasant and warm lighting. Quiet, idle chatter resonates throughout the various gang members, but the plot of land is left in a peacefulness that doesn’t often come to the gang.

That is until you hear a voice shouting your name from halfway across the camp.

Sure enough, to follow that, Susan comes striding over to you with that usual scowl on her face. Her hands are on her hips, and she looks at you rather disapprovingly. She repeats your name, slight incredulity in her tone.

“Look at you! You’re a mess!” she exclaims, frowning rather deeply. “You’re going to get us all sick! When was the last time you bathed?”

Susan shakes her head disapprovingly, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows. She has too much on her shoulders with the camp, but she somehow always has the time to zero in on your state. She does it so often you’d think she was worried about you.

“And don’t think I haven’t missed out on how you’ve been skippin’ meals,” she adds, her look of disapproval worsening. “I’ll be damned if I let it go on. C’mon, get!”

She immediately starts to urge you up and towards the recently fixed pot of stew near the other side of the camp, grumbling things to herself. “You think I’m gonna just watch you keel over and starve yourself? Rottin’ in your own filth? Well you best think again, goddamnit!”