[center][h3]Alex Teixeira[/h3][/center]

	Alex glanced at Rowena, picking at the canned fish with his thumb and index finger. "Better," Alex mumbled, already putting piece after piece of tuna in his mouth. He ate like a hobo. Too fast, too much, and with little regards for the scraps that fell onto his torn, grey suit. He'd been so eager to dress for success before this outbreak crushed his dreams, making sure to keep anything from staining his father's precious suit. But now? Who had the time to care about appearances. The suit was snug and warm. Tears along the collar and bottom edge, stains, and a few missing buttons didn't detract from that. If anything, the tear along his right side made it easier to access his handgun. "Better is optimistic, no?" He quipped with his mouth half-full. "It is a surprise that you are not traumatized, being alone with dog for so long-" Before Rowena had a chance to speak, Alex heard shouting coming from outside. The wails shattered his composure, and he dropped what little remained of his canned tuna, turning towards the front door. The blood in his legs turned to cement for a moment. Walkers? Again? Was it the same horde? Dammit, he didn't have time to go over all of this in his head, but of course, it's not like he could stop himself from going over all the gruesome possibilities that could follow. "[i]Morto[/i]" He rasped, coughing up a small chunk of chewed Tuna.