Casron beat down another zombie with his crowbar, on after another, the weight was perfect, heavy enough to smash a skull but light enough to be ready to hit away wave after have, and with the surprising muscular build and stamina he could thrash threw waves on end, but he realized the risk, therefore he would only do such a thing in a building and with a small mob. He sighed as the zombies were put in a pile and he pulled a pack of cigarettes. As he took it he took a moment before he lit it and took a puff before crushing it in his hand and throwing it on the ground from the burn on his hand. It was disgusting and had he not seen the other people, they clearly were not raiders, they looks so innocent despite the zombies, they most have been threw alot... What was he thinking. They were just like the others making fun of his obsessions and disabilities, and speaking of which. Carson looked at the wood desks, something about them made him want to gnaw on them, and he didn't fight the ergs. Rubber, wax, paper, string, plastic you name it he couldn't resist but to take chops from it and chew as he searched the building, only finding a clip for his 22. and a few stale doughnuts and some vending machine snacks, they would let him leave a few days longer. He knew that if he followed the the others they may feed him, they were his fall back, if they weren't out the window he wouldn't have taken the elevator in order to walk out and meet them.