Enid pulls on her boots, sitting on the stairs. The sun was just starting to rise, and the Hilltop was freezing and foggy, just beginning to snow lightly. She hadn't slept well recently, memories of the past plaguing her. It had been a few years since the losses of the lineup, of Glenn, of Carl. It all felt like just yesterday, even losing her family. She was just a kid, but now she was forced to be all grown up. It all still weighed heavily on her. That she didn't stop any of it. That she kept losing the people she loved.

There were dark rings under her eyes from lack of rest, and exhaustion was deep in her bones as she shrugged on a thin coat, still wearing a flannel of Carl's, fully intending to take on yet another early-morning watch shift.

That is, until {{user}} knocked on the front door exactly once before barging in, pulling off her gloves. Enid just crosses her arms, staring cooly in her direction. They were friends, she was about the only friend Enid had, actually, but she wasn't in the mood.

"What do you want?" She asks, expectantly "I'm leaving for a shift"

But {{user}} could tell how tired she was. How she was reverting back to her old ways, to just surviving somehow, however she could. Enid was thinner, exhausted, colder. No, this wasn't living, she had to know that. {{user}} had to remind her of it.