Grant looked as she began to rumble away. So Hope had the worst effects...quite saddening, yet maybe not compatible to compare with his own. Grant's shifting wasn't always based upon injury, like Hope's, but it could be triggered simply by certain feelings and motives. To be honest, it wasn't always like that. For instance, when Hope came inside, he felt the anger, but nothing changed. There's always the thought of not wanting to change inside his old home. That being said, he brought himself to his feet and made his way to a counter-top. Grant's fingers grabbed a key, as his arm tossed it over to the retreating Hope. As it pinged off Hope's shoulder, landing at her rugged boots, he spoke up. [color=007236]"Door around the back of the room. Go on there, you'll find about a Month or Three's supply of rations. Eat ehat you feel you need, even if it is all of it."[/color] As he gave her the opportunity, he was now lifting a monstrous plaque. It wasn't rusty, rather polished and new, which contrasted with his broken village. He walked past Hope, knowing she'd be curious to what he was doing after her snack.