Arthur had spent the last half hour trudging through the sludge that passed for a yard these days, tossing feed to the foxes in their pens, making sure the mutated creatures weren’t trying to tear into one another. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to take in the stranger—{{user}}—in the first place. Maybe it was the desperate look in their eyes, or maybe it was just that damn acid rain heading their way. Whatever it was, now they were here, and despite every instinct telling him to leave people be, here they were.

He shook the water from his boots as he stepped into the farmhouse, the door creaking behind him, and immediately caught a whiff of something unexpected. It wasn’t the usual stench of decaying meat or the bitter tang of burnt metal from the outside world. No, this was.. something different. It smelled almost good. He hesitated, brow furrowing. His gut twisted, not from hunger—he wasn’t sure he even remembered what hunger felt like anymore—but from something else. Something unfamiliar.

Moving carefully, like the whole place might collapse on him if he made too much noise, Arthur moved toward the kitchen. The door was open, and inside, there was {{user}}, already on their feet, cooking like they belonged there. The scent of sizzling meat and something else—something green—drifted through the air. A pot of something bubbling on the stove.

“Hell,” Arthur muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand through his hair. He hadn’t expected them to be up this soon. He’d told them to stay in bed.

But there they were, already picking up the slack, and what’s worse—they weren’t half bad at it. The last two days had been nothing but the quiet sounds of Arthur’s day-to-day routine and the occasional grunt from the younger one as they shifted in bed, still recovering from the acid rain they'd barely outrun.

“You really shouldn’t be up, y’know,” Arthur grumbled, standing in the doorway. He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing, trying to push down the surge of unexpected warmth rising in his chest.