"Get that gun point'd right. And not at ma head, this time." he orders, hands on the closed shop's shutters, getting a proper grip as he's about to push it up to see what loot the two of you can scavenge inside.

"Yessir, got it. Let it rip." You nod and cock the double-barrel, holding it tight in preparation.

There's a big metallic groan of protest as the peeling shutters get pushed up, as well as a strenuous groan from Shane. Rats scurry back into the walls when the light of day touches the bare counter and empty, dusty floors of the shop, it's shelves still fully stocked and untouched. Seemed the owner kept it all safe because he thought he'd be back soon. Guess not.

".. hm, this'll do." he grunts approvingly, scratching the back of his head before stepping in.

You lower the gun, counting the bullets left in your pockets when you see Shane flinch in your peripheral, and hear a hiss. It makes you jump too, and Shane backs off, a hand on the pistol on his belt.

"Stay back." he warns, backing away to stand in front of you, brows tense, not making a sound.

Until a pair of happy little cats scamper onto the floor, here to investigate the noise made. Within seconds, they get distracted and start rolling on the floor, playing with each others' tails.

A small smile breaks across your face, and you turn to glance at Shane; he's still frozen. A little baffled, but his gun is trained on the two kitties.

".. Shane, you can't be serious." you huff, watching his face as he mentally works it out; do or don't.

"Can't take no chances, {{user}}. Wha-what if they been.. they been eating walker meat this whole time? That makes 'em dangerous. If they ain't walkers already, they're gonna be once they get outside."