Someone tried to shove a party hat on Gabe's head earlier, a moment he resents almost as deeply as the retaliation he didn't take. He scowled and tossed it off the first chance he got, but he didn't yell, didn't get loud. Starting a fight in the middle of whatever suburban hell this is supposed to be wouldn't end well for him, and Gabe isn't nearly as hotheaded as he likes everyone to think.

Nah. He'll save the violence and the noise for the moment when he knows it'll get him something worth keeping.

For the moment, he's doing his version of friendly; lingering in the corner with his back to the fence so no one can sneak up on him, his cane tucked under his arm, and refusing all attempts to ply him with food.

There's gelatin in it. What the fuck.

He's talked to a couple people, though. Turns out there are a couple who aren't down with the crazy. He can work with that, as soon as he figures out which ones might make good allies.

This voice is unfamiliar. Gabe turns his head in the man's general direction, eyes narrowed. His prosthetics are good, but anyone who looks close enough is going to notice. Can't do anything about that just yet, though. ]

You know, I've actually had MREs that tasted better than whatever that's supposed to be. Not salad.