[u]Desmond Williams[/u]

With the worthwhile sections of the house divvied up between them, Desmond got to work scanning the small residential kitchen for any items of use. Right off the bat he found a can opener, and set it atop the shabby island in the middle of the room before beginning to look through the pantry. Most of the more obvious selections had been taken by the owners, but he was able to find some canned squash, chicken noodle soup, and a couple boxes of pasta.
"Wouldn't hurt to scope them out," he replied, still rummaging through what used to be a family's home. "If they're friendly, we might be able to trade or join up. Strength in numbers, I guess. If not, well, we move on."

After another minute or so of scavenging, Desmond came to the conclusion that the kitchen had been picked clean. Atop the island, besides the previous items, were three more cans, a 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper, and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. Desmond also decided to take a jug of vinegar -- sans the vinegar, which he dumped onto the floor and allowed himself a dumb grin -- for the purpose of storing collected water. His job done, he walked over to check on his partner.
"You know, all that went on, we never actually introduced ourselves," he realized, before extending a hand. "I'm Des-"
A distant gunshot rang out, far enough for Desmond to know that they were in no danger, but close enough for there to have been survivors nearby. Almost immediately after, a second one, louder, but seemingly from the same place. The former lawyer ran to the kitchen window to try to see where it had come from, but all he could see was the apartment building down the street.
"Sounds like we're not alone around here."