[Life once again reaffirms that not wearing sunglasses is absolute bullshit. Simply making eye contact earns a small "tsk" under his breath, but Rovan decides to play ball in the end. May as well collect any information even if it poses the risk of being stuck with a brat. Although kids are still human bodies; a resource or a future zombie.]

By all means, you first.

[Rovan stops just short of rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms.]

As far as I'm concerned, I'm tripping from tainted food supplies. Claiming souls or whatever? I'll believe it when I see it. This is probably some damned cult adding another group to the horde. Something my unconscious would be cooking up, yeah...