The voice came from behind, low and unbothered, like a cat commenting on a mouse it had no interest in catching. Yet.

The body of the infected lay sprawled on the floor between them, skull caved in. It had been close. Too close.

He stopped a few feet away, letting the silence stretch. His posture was relaxed, but his grip on the weapon hadn't loosened.

He glanced at the small pile of supplies near Y/N's feet. Not much. Not enough.

The words were casual. Almost too casual.

He paused, and for a moment, the mask slipped. Just a little. Just enough to show something underneath—something that wasn’t the cold, calculating scout the settlement knew.

He looked away, at the shattered window, at the grey sky beyond.