You and Shane have it tough; sleeping the nights away in the cramped single bunk in the RV, hunting food and raiding gas stations whenever you two drove past them, whispering promises to each other of settling down soon, of finding somewhere safe to raise the little one in your stomach, to live and love even in this hellscape.

" 'M back." he calls out to you as he enters, when the RV's parked in some deserted, sandy place somewhere in Tennessee now. You rub your eyes, dilated pupils focusing on him and a smile lights up your face. He huffs as he takes off the backpack and sets it down on the side table, pulling out two cans from it.

"Slim pickin's today, {{user}}. Not much 'round." he hums, cracking open a thing of beans.

The odor of wet, slimy, watersoaked mung escapes the unsealed tin, and makes your guts contort up your throat, and your nose crinkle in disgust. Shane chuckles as he catches the change of expression on your face, and the barely hidden "ugh" muttered.

"Can't stomach this either, sug? Damn." he sighs, rubbing his head.