Philip
āFurniture, huh? Well, how could I resist that?ā
Jayce was right in thinking Philip didn't have much experience with flirting. Growing up in a post-apocalyptic world, he was used to taking care of others, and had rarely had thought for anything elseā mostly because his nature meant that people rarely saw him as a romantic interest. He appreciated Jayce's forwardness, even though it was new to him. As the guy grinned, Philip found himself grinning back, leading the way away from the fire to the small hut he called home.
It was a modest living space, but Philip hadn't been lying about the furniture. The entrance was a mixture of a living room and kitchen, though for obvious reasons it lacked any modern comforts Jayce might have recognised, and was overall a rudimentary imitation of life before the flare. Still, it had a sofa, a table, and a counter, and some chairs. Through the slightly open door to their left-hand side, Philip's bedroom was visible.
"Well," he said. "Here it is."
Margrethe
Margrethe walked behind Violet as she practically ran up the stairs despite her wet clothes. She still carried her wife's back, lazily opening doors while Violet seemed to follow the signs towards the room where she'd find the equipment. Many of the rooms were overrun by rot and plants, and would probably not do well for comfortable resting. There were at least two rooms that weren't too destroyed. They would require some fixing up, and Margethe refused to sleep somewhere without investigating possible protection towards attack, but she wasn't too tired to take upon herself a few hour's work. Hopefully they would find some food before that, though.
An excited squeal from down the hall signalled that Violet had found the machine she was looking for.
"How is it, love?" Margrethe called.
"Surprisingly intact," came the answer. "It will require some fixing. We can scavenge the city tomorrow for parts."
"Of course, dear."
"I'll need some tools, too."
"Whatever you say, dear."
Violet poked her head out, narrowing eyes at her. Margrethe smiled, and winked. Neither of the two were particularly submissive, so it was only natural for her to be suspicious. For all the centuries the two had been together, Violet had yet to learn that Margrethe was more than willing to put her goals over her own. Margrethe had drifted through nearly a thousand years of organised war, unable to settle or stay still. Violet gave her a focus.
Having explored the rest of the floor, they then returned to the waiting room downstairs to hear about Brandon's findings.
āWell, I got good news and bad news," he said as they entered. "We have generators that should work and power the place up, but we have no fuel to run them.ā
"A problem for another day, I think," Margrethe said. "There are some rooms upstairs that we can use for rest. They need a bit of fixing up, but not so much as to exhaust us. First though, perhaps we should search the island for a food source?"