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Foxy woke up from her nap again

His face red from running, Rolen sprints down the street. Walkers had just ripped apart his friend, and he chose to leave his friend behind instead of risking his life. The handle of his axe was in splinters, and he held each of the pieces in his hand as he ran. It seemed that at every turn there was another zombie, another threat. The weather was growing worse, and he needed shelter.

His long legs pumping just as fast as his slender arms, Rolen slips and tears another hole in his jeans. Quickly, he stands up and continues, but at a slower pace. These zombies were slower than he, but they seemed to outmaneuver him almost every time. He heard a bit of commotion in a nearby house, yet a gut feeling told him it wasn't walkers. They wouldn't be so noisy, and there seemed to be a good deal less of them in the area. Striding to the door, he pauses. Deciding to take a safer route, he moves to a boarded-up window, and peeks in. Noticing two figures, he ducks with a hiss. He creeps to another window, where he sees a young girl. However, he frowns as he notices her missing leg. Having surveyed enough of the group of people, he returns to the door, and knocks loudly.

He opens the door slightly, angled so he can bash the head of whatever it is just in case. "Who's out there?"

Standing back, and holding his hands away from his body, Rolen speaks in a gentle voice, laden with an unspeakable burden. "Just me, bud. Needin' a place to stay, if you don't mind." he says, peering at the door.

He lowers the bat slightly, still suspicious. "I'll talk to the person in charge. Will you be alright out there for a bit longer?"

Surveying his surroundings, and finding the suitable, he answers, "I think so, but the weather's gettin' rough. Just hurry, if ya don't mind."

"Hey, we got someone at the door, should I let him in?" He yells in the general vicinity of Skylar, who he assumed was in charge,

Rolen sets on the doorstep, and twiddles his thumbs. Thoughts of recent events fill his head, and tears well in his eyes. He blinks, only allowing a single tear to fall down his pale face. Wiping it away with the back of his sleeve, he looks down at his axe. The blade is chipped, but still remains sharp. The handle is stained, with not only the blood of his enemies but the blood from a gash on the palm of his hand.

He opens the door again. "I think the others are asleep, so I'll just ask you some questions real quick."

Rolen turns, and looks up at the man. "Yeah, go ahead" he says, eagerly.

"First of all, have you been bitten? Second, have you been in a group before? Third: What's your favorite dessert?"

Surprised by the last question, Rolen pauses. "No, not bitten. Got scratched a bit, but I cleaned those up before they got infected. I ,eh, I've been in a few groups. Didn't turn out too well, as you can tell. And dessert?" he pauses again, thinking about his answer. "Brownies, I guess. Does it matter? I ain't gonna get a brownie in the apocalypse" he says.

He nods and lets him in. "Eh, I'm pretty new to the group and just wanted something to talk to people about, everybody here is pretty busy."

Rolen stands, and steps inside. Taking a good look at the room, he points down the hallway. "Where'm I stayin'?" he asks, with a hint of a Southern drawl.

He points towards the stairs. "There should be an open room up there."

Hooking a finger around the strap of his pack, Rolen scales the stairs with ease. Passing a few rooms, which look occupied, he finally finds one that might be empty. He drops his pack, and sits on the bed. Hearing the shower drip, he wonders if there's running water, and even more important, electricity. After unpacking his things, and stowing his axe in a drawer, he returns to the room that Nelson is in. "Thank you, by the way. It was gettin' a bit rough out there." he says, and extends a hand. "Th'name is Rolen, if yer wonderin'." he says, in a voice that doesn't quite suit his slender form.

He shakes his hand, understanding the man's predicament. "Im Nelson, if you need anything, just ask me and then i'll ask the people who know how to do it." He says with a slight grin.

Returning the smile, Rolen asks, "As a matter of fact, I'm in need fer a new handle. Any of you have any sharp knives? I'll give it back, I promise."

He chuckles, glad that he can actually be helpful. "I actually tend to collect blades, you never know when they can come in handy. Follow me." He heads to his room and pulls 3 knives of different sizes out of sheathes in his pack.

Surprised, if not a bit unsettled, Rolen examines each blade. Choosing a medium-sized one, he spins it easily. "I'll use this one, if ya don't mind. Gimme jus' a few minutes, I'll have it ready." he says, and walks outside to find a suitable piece of wood for his handle.