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Nick hesitated. He hadn't been the most trusting kid to begin with, and now he was even more paranoid about anything and everything.
"Fine," he said slowly, his gaze never leaving Raden's face. "Fine. Where is this place?"

"See that hill over their? It's behind there." He grinned. "You'll get your own room and bed." He took a drink of beer out of a flask. "Aah. That's some good stuff right there." He looked over at the boy and held out the flask to him. "Would you like any?"

"No thanks, I'll stick with water," he replied, wrinkling his nose. He remembered one time his older brother had given him a taste and it was awful...
He fell silent, his eyes dropping as he took a thoughtful sip of water.

Raden looked at the boy. "Are you okay son?" He put a hand on the boys shoulder breathing his drunken breathe on him. "You look, nervous and afraid?"

Nicky's shoulder twitched slightly, but he didn't shrug him off.
"Well, it's the zombie apocalypse, of course I'm nervous," he replied, staring at a beetle scurrying across the ground. "Just- nothing. Never mind."

He stared at him in the eyes. "Boy no one else is here to here you just tell what is wrong?" He stepped back a few paces. "I know what it is." He smiled stupidly at himself. "You don't trust me at all do ya?"

He glanced up at Raden, an eyebrow raised. "I don't trust anybody. Not anymore."

He took out the gun and stared at it. He looked at the boy again. "Do you have any family, anyone you DO trust?" He stared at the boy. "Do you trust me?"

"I don't have any family anymore. I used to, but not anymore," he growled, fiddling with his bandana. "And in answer to your question... I'm not sure. I don't know anything anymore."

"Boy," He looked him straight in the eye. "You are JUST like me." He pulled out a gloved hand and took off the glove "Let me show you something." He put the glove back on. "Never-mind, I'll show you later." He started walking up the hill to the house. "Well, you comin our not?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'," he said, hurrying after Raden. "Just chill."

He walked up to the door of his house. He opened it. "You first, good sir."

Nick stared at him a moment, then finally walked in, not wanting to turn his back on Raden. Some of the tension left his shoulders, however, when he saw the insides of the house.
"Nice little getup you have here," he commented, looking around.

"Yes I agree." He gestured for the stairs. "Your room is upstairs directly to the left." He stared at the boy in the eyes. "DO NOT go into the two rooms, do you understand me boy?" He took hold of the boy. "Or suffer severe consequences." He retracted his hand from the boys shoulder and walked to the kitchen. "Hungary or thirsty at all?"

"Friggin starving, and I think I'm dehydrated... I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating earlier," he said, following him along into the kitchen. He was slightly suspicious about the 'other two rooms', but he decided not to push it yet. "And my name's Nicky, not Boy."

He grinned. "I like the name 'Boy' better. But if you wish I will call you Nick." He opened a cabinet full of food. "What would you like, 'Nick'?"

"Anything edible," he replied truthfully. He was happy to get his mitts on anything, but something that wasn't spoiled would be nice.

"Cake?" He ask setting out a piece of cake along with plenty of other foods such as, steak, bread, rice, pork chops, chicken, cereal and among other things. "Point at one and I'll fix it up for ya." He brought out multiple bottles of soda, a gallon of milk, and some Gatorade. "Pick a drink too."

Nick stared in fascination at all the different foods. His young mind was being blown, as was probably pretty obvious to Raden. He had never been around so much food before, at least since the apocalypse started.
Okay, Nick. Be sensible. What'll help you survive longer?
In the end he decided on the steak (lots of calories to burn, and it would fill him up nicely) and the Gatorade (electrolytes would help him recover from what he was sincerely hoping was dehydration).

He picked up the steak and put it on the stove. "Some grill seasoning should be good." As the steak was cooking he poured the Gatorade into a glass. "How do you want it cooked. Medium-rare, medium?"