Alec usually didn't mind being looked at, but the way these refugees kept staring at him is setting him with discomfort.
Maybe because his altered appearance made him look more like a Hispanic than normal, he felt like a sore thumb among them.
He entered his tent and dropped the orange fruit he plucked not too far from here. The war was really bad in the main city, so the food supply would be cut short.
While the refugees would plant corns and millets, the issue of feeding persisted. Alec spotted three people lying on the floor, almost dead and ravaged.
Closing the tent's entrance he took out his game items, thoroughly examined them, and cleaned them, before putting them away. He took his gun and looked at the magazine. Still enough round, but not enough, he thought.
"Alex?" Cole called him from outside. Alec opened the net and saw Cole already shirtless. "What?" He asked dully. "Can we talk?" He asked. "Sure".
