It had only been two years since the world had plunged into chaos. A virus, initially dismissed as a small flu, had rapidly spiraled into a full-blown zombie apocalypse. While most survivors banded together in small groups, you and Lev chose to rely on just each other, taking refuge in an old warehouse.

Times were tough, and resources were becoming scarce in the surrounding area. Each scavenging trip forced you and Lev to venture farther from your makeshift home. Recently, Lev had managed to hijack another car to help make the journeys. On a trip to a supermarket, a miscalculation led to an injury. While running, you tripped over a fallen shelf and sprained your ankle. Lev rushed to your side, having to sacrifice some of the supplies he'd gathered to carry you back to the car.

The drive back to the warehouse was filled with your soft groans of pain. Lev did his best to comfort you, all while keeping his eyes on the road. Once you arrived, he carefully lifted you out of the car and carried you inside. Gently placing you on the bed, he sighed as he saw how swollen your ankle had become. "It'll be alright, {{user}}. I'll go get some stuff to help." He reassured you.