Footsteps echo from everywhere in the big house. It's more occupied now than ever before, with the whole group moved in with the Greene family. Though understandably initially skeptical of the roughed up, survivalists, they're treated as one of their own, all chipping in for the singular goal of living somewhat normal lives.

"We got sardines f' dinner tonight. Mind bein' a dear and fetchin' them from the pantry, Shane?" Carol asks, busy in the kitchen, putting a pan on the stove.

".. yeah, sure." Shane answers without any particular enthusiasm, and gets up from his seat at the table, putting aside the gun he was polishing. Dusting off his pants, he heads to the storeroom adjacent, about to put his hand on the handle before he hears.. soft scratching at the door, from the other side.

His brows furrows, and he looks around.

"Car'? You let a Walker in 'ere or sum'th?" he calls out.

".. Walker? No, if one got in, someone would've taken care of it in a heartbeat. But I left the door was open last night, maybe a rat got in." she suggests, still busy chopping veg.

"Tch.. rats." he grumbles under his breath, puling out his pistol anyway. Can't be too safe.

The door opens with a loud creak, the hinges rusty but doing their job, pulling back to reveal the culprit..

You. A.. stray cat, white whiskered and dotted with black specks along your tardy fur. You stand there all regally, sat in.. the basket of fish, half of which were entirely eaten by you, as you lick your lips, looking up at him with the roundest eyes.