Nick's face curled up in disapointment as Anastasia gave him the news: all quiet. "Dammit," he muttered. "Where'd all the bastards go? Couldn't throw a rock without hitting one of them in Atlanta. Heheh, good times." The man smiled at the memory of the great horde he'd witnessed in Georgia.

The shirtless man turned as more of the camp woke up. "Hey, Johnny. Still grouchy and allergic?" Nick furrowed his brow as the man brought up the issue of food. "Yeah, actually, he's got a point. Give it a few more days and there'll be a rumbly in ole' Nick's tummy." The man shrugged again. They'd deal with it - they always had so far. That kind of issue was better left to Charlie, or Lara, or all the grim-and-serious 'survival' types. When they needed Nick to set something on fire or beat a zombie to death with a tire iron, they'd call him, which was an arrangement that suited him just fine. 

Charlie had approached, and was saying something about a meeting once Marcus came back. "Snacks and talking about stuff? Why, those are some of my favorite things, Charlie!" Nick trudged back to the RV to grab a granola bar, trying to conceal his annoyance at the mention of Marcus's mission. Nick had no problems with the guy, personally - he seemed just as nice as anyone else, knew how to handle himself, did his share of the work. The problem was that Nick had wanted to go on this little scouting mission with the man, to serve as backup. The group had deemed it too risky, and so Nick was left doing pushups in camp, bored out of his mind, while Marcus got to have all the fun.

Nick sauntered back to the group, still twirling his axe idly. He raised the weapon in a friendly salue when Skye entered the camp, replying with a mouthful of granola. "Zombie squirrel! Man, that'd be so the shit, zombie animals. Hey, Charlie, if we find a zombie bear, can I fight it? Please say yes."