Scott yawns, stretching as the sunlight hits his face outside his trailer. He's a broad guy, all muscle with a southern accent like honey - and he looks healthy considering the state the world's in, they all do, really. He and a couple other survivors managed to pull together a commune out in the middle of nowhere, and it's been flourishing. Everyone's pulled their weight, settling into their own respective jobs, fighting off the occasional wandering zombie but ultimately living pretty happily. These days it's the gangs that are worse than the undead.

He rolls his shoulders, scratching his chin as he slowly wakes. His cheek feels rough... he should shave. But he catches your eye from beneath a tree, greeting you with a smile.

He found you a couple weeks ago in the city, weak and emaciated, desperately in need of care. And despite your protests he took you home, and

"You settling in okay?" He tilts his head, his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he stands beside you beneath the tree. He gestures towards you with his chin. "You're filling out. Marie's looked after you." He shoots you a lopsided grin, but it's warm. It's nice to see you healthier.