Maybe it's a bit dramatic, but Sal always felt like he was born into a world that had already gone to shit long before the Walkers took over en masse. The only difference now is that the outside finally matched the inside — kind of like himself, he thought. Maybe that’s why he was able to live this way for so long, on his own, with just he and his cat to keep him company. Gizmo may have been lazy but he was smart enough and agile enough to keep himself safe — and quite frankly, useful as hell. When it came down to it the cat was a reliable companion and Sal is sure the loneliness might have been more unbearable if not for him. Just as it had been before everything went tits up.
He stayed out of sight as much as he could. Even in this house, instead of taking refuge in a bedroom or an attic, his choice of refuge was underneath the house. Inside a crawlspace just small enough for him and the cat to squeeze through. Being incredibly short and lanky for his age paid off in these times, more often than he cares to count. His current digs reminded me of the time he and Larry explored the basement of the old apartment building where the homeless man (or woman, they never really found a person) had set up their safe haven. Cardboard bedding, a blanket, a flashlight, some food shoved into a corner, and magazines in case he got bored. The rest of the house was just a means to get around, to get to things he may need, but since the occasional Walker still wandered too close for comfort he chose underneath the house to actually sleep in without worry of being torn to bits in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t unusual for people to come through here either, in which case Sal would retreat into his hiding spot and wait them out. It was a mixed bag whether other survivors would be dangerous or not, but he rarely tested fate. His mask unsettled people, but without it most mistake him for a Walker and take aim. In a way, it’s no different now than it had been before, except now the threat of death was exponentially just…higher. Instead of getting his ass kicked he’d get a gun pointed at his head. Luckily, he was very good at staying hidden, just out of sight. He watches the stranger carefully from underneath the house, moving along the underside before skittering across the lawn and climbing the almost dilapidated treehouse that hangs over the hedge (whoever built that for their kid was an idiot). Normally, he would remain quiet, but the stranger looks to be about his age, and so Sal feels compelled to make his presence known. Granted, that didn't always guarantee a friendly response, but he felt more of an urge to at least try.
He peeks over the window with a large branch obscuring most of the view, leaving very little of his "face" visible from the awkward angle that is the sidewalk. Maybe he should be worried about this thing collapsing, but he's so light that it hasn't even budged the few times he's sat up here.
"Psst"! It's the least threatening noise he can make right now. He figures just calling out "hey" might be too aggressive. He does wave an arm though, sticking out of the window as if he weren't worried about someone just shooting his hand off. He wasn't shy about taking reckless risks.
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Date: 2021-12-03 04:33 pm (UTC)He stayed out of sight as much as he could. Even in this house, instead of taking refuge in a bedroom or an attic, his choice of refuge was underneath the house. Inside a crawlspace just small enough for him and the cat to squeeze through. Being incredibly short and lanky for his age paid off in these times, more often than he cares to count. His current digs reminded me of the time he and Larry explored the basement of the old apartment building where the homeless man (or woman, they never really found a person) had set up their safe haven. Cardboard bedding, a blanket, a flashlight, some food shoved into a corner, and magazines in case he got bored. The rest of the house was just a means to get around, to get to things he may need, but since the occasional Walker still wandered too close for comfort he chose underneath the house to actually sleep in without worry of being torn to bits in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t unusual for people to come through here either, in which case Sal would retreat into his hiding spot and wait them out. It was a mixed bag whether other survivors would be dangerous or not, but he rarely tested fate. His mask unsettled people, but without it most mistake him for a Walker and take aim. In a way, it’s no different now than it had been before, except now the threat of death was exponentially just…higher. Instead of getting his ass kicked he’d get a gun pointed at his head. Luckily, he was very good at staying hidden, just out of sight. He watches the stranger carefully from underneath the house, moving along the underside before skittering across the lawn and climbing the almost dilapidated treehouse that hangs over the hedge (whoever built that for their kid was an idiot). Normally, he would remain quiet, but the stranger looks to be about his age, and so Sal feels compelled to make his presence known. Granted, that didn't always guarantee a friendly response, but he felt more of an urge to at least try.
He peeks over the window with a large branch obscuring most of the view, leaving very little of his "face" visible from the awkward angle that is the sidewalk. Maybe he should be worried about this thing collapsing, but he's so light that it hasn't even budged the few times he's sat up here.
"Psst"! It's the least threatening noise he can make right now. He figures just calling out "hey" might be too aggressive. He does wave an arm though, sticking out of the window as if he weren't worried about someone just shooting his hand off. He wasn't shy about taking reckless risks.