You don’t interest him in the slightest. You doubt anything does. But he lets you follow him around like a lemming. You needed the protection and he… didn’t care. So, here you were, in the kitchen of an abandoned pastry shop. You found flour and yeast, a true treasure, and were now kneading out bread dough on the countertop. He stood across from you, purifying what little water was left in the taps. You glanced back at him, silence pressing in around you.