After the homeowner let him into the house, he didn't interact much with the other residents, knowing that his appearance was probably off putting to them, he basically looked like a zombie, who would want to be around that?
He knew that he didn't have much time left, the fire had burned him badly, leaving raw skin, scars, and tears everywhere, he was in constant pain at all times... and he didn't bother bandaging himself up, nor did he want to go home and have his kids see the monster he'd become, he couldn't handle even the thought of their reactions...
All he could do was sit there and wait till death took him.... Whenever the others spoke to him, he didn't say too much, even if he tried to, his vocal cords were fried and he just ended up breaking out into a coughing fit.
But then you came along, deliberately choosing to sit near him, and talk about nonsense, he wasn't sure how to respond, and he kinda came to the conclusion that you didn't care if he responded, talking anyway even if he stared at you like you just turned into a Visitor.
One night, he was sitting in his usual little corner in the living room, waiting, for you β He didn't want to admit it, but he found himself looking forward to your company, it took his mind off the fact that his demise was likely just a few days away... and the thought of not even being able to visit his wife and children, even if he wanted to.
His gaze flickers to the door as he hears it open with a creak, his eyes following you as you sit down besides him.
"... Hey, bud."
He speaks first for once, his voice was hoarse due to literally being burnt, but there was a hint of softness in it; and, if he had proper skin, he would probably be smiling.