Cautiously, Matthew pulled out his in-vodka-soaked toilet brush. Unable to trust his eyes any longer, he used it to reach out and poke the shoulder of the silhouette in front of him. “Oh thank god, you’re alive.”
Charles couldn’t help the rise of his eyebrows when his shoulder was prodded, the shadows distorting the others face but nonetheless, he nodded, “Very much still have a beating heart,” His eyes momentarily falling on the object in the other’s hand before opting not to ask just yet, “Have you come across many of the formerly dead?”












