A smile played across his lips. He had been to that house before, and not to explore. Unfortunately, when he finally got the nerve to grab a mildew-covered pillowcase and a crowbar, he found someone had already taken all the edible resources and working batteries. Luckily, whoever lived in the home before seemed to be an artist or a painter, because Blake was able to salvage crush paints and touch brushes, most likely deemed worthless in the famine-filled world. 

Because of the ugliness everyone outside the cities had to face every day, it was no wonder most of them had lost interest in beautiful things. Not him, though. He may have lived in their shambles and ruins, but he was no peasant. He was in hiding. In order to convince himself of this, he said it every night after securing the bars. 

Unfortunately, they couldn't explore now because of the barb wire barrier Blake had, with great difficulty, set all around the perimeter of his bungalow. Quickly, he slowly shook his head. "It's late, if we explore, it's going to be in the daytime." He murmured softly, "And you don't want to go in there, anyways. Let's just stay in the house, alright?" 

Not wanting t make his new companion sad, he quickly added, "There are a lot of things to do in the house, anyways. Follow, okay?" Blake said before squeezing the other's shoulder (it felt like soft human skin) and dashing up the stairs like an excited child.