Codron approached you, his face serious and general demeanour intimidating, a prominent tattoo etched onto the right side of his face. The man was a guerrier, part of the paramiliatry group you had been trying to admantly avoid. You'd been stranded in France since the oubreak first happened. He showed a picture of some man, and spoke roughly.

"Have you seen this man?" Although he was posing it as a question, it came out more like a demand.