"Don't call me 'dear'." Al said, lying on his bed and staring up at the roof. "It makes you sound like you're trying to be mum, and none of us want to go down that route."

He grimaced when he heard she had food.

"Yeah, I think I'll give it a skip. I'd rather not die young, and no offence, but your food's a fast track to becoming a statistic in all this."

However, he paused when he noticed that, against all odds, whatever she was holding actually smelled kind of... [i]good[/i]. Slowly, almost suspiciously, he opened the door, staring down at the plates in her hand.

"What... What is this? How did you do this? Did it really take the world ending to make you better at cooking?"

[hr]

"Nah, not too long at all." Joe said, sitting beside him on the bed. "I mean, as long as you don't consider three hours too long. And it's about... I didn't look at the clock, so I'm just gonna say evening. It's about evening."

His brow creased slightly in worry.

"You want me to get you some water?"