If he had things his way, Wrench would simply fill a deep freeze with fish from a nearby stream or the shorn carcasses of whatever wildlife he can pick off from his own backyard. He's been warned, however, that it's bad form to firing off a gun in the neighborhood. Such activities might lead to the kind of kidnapping and re-education that several of those around him have already fallen victim to, and he's not in any great hurry to experience that particular welcome to Sweetwater for himself.
As a recently-confirmed bachelor and nearly feral excuse for a human being, though, the grocery store is no more familiar territory for the tall man. He walks the aisles with a sense of confusion mingled with disgust. Not everything is entirely foreign, but it all feels like it might as well be. He can open a can and set something to boil over the stove, or throw a packaged meal into the microwave, but his cooking skills have always begun and ended with the necessity of eating, and all this seems needlessly complex.
When he spots a familiar face he raises his eyebrows at the woman who seems so similarly frozen in front of the cold doors clouded with condensation. He steps up next to her and peers at her equally-empty cart.
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As a recently-confirmed bachelor and nearly feral excuse for a human being, though, the grocery store is no more familiar territory for the tall man. He walks the aisles with a sense of confusion mingled with disgust. Not everything is entirely foreign, but it all feels like it might as well be. He can open a can and set something to boil over the stove, or throw a packaged meal into the microwave, but his cooking skills have always begun and ended with the necessity of eating, and all this seems needlessly complex.
When he spots a familiar face he raises his eyebrows at the woman who seems so similarly frozen in front of the cold doors clouded with condensation. He steps up next to her and peers at her equally-empty cart.
You a shit cook too?