Looting houses was not Evan's favorite thing. Okay, so it would be harder to list what was his favorite thing nowadays, but that was another whole point entirely, and he really didn't care to allow his thought process to linger on that for too long. All he could think of was the fact that these were people's possessions, and that if someone broke into his apartment and tried to steal his shit? Well, if he ever found out he would give them a nice fist in the eye. Or a blade to the throat… depending on what they stole.
Okay, that was a lie. Evan liked to talk a big game and he could bitch at someone until he was blue in the face. He was pretty badass when it came to killing zombies, too. But when it came to people he was something of a wimp… as was obvious by the fact that he couldn't even bring himself to kill his own family when they'd been bitten. He shook that memory off and continued down the hall, to the fourth door on the right.
There wasn't a hell of a lot in this complex. Evan was completely aware that it was only a matter of time before they needed to start leaving the city for supplies. Shit didn't grow on trees, and even if it did, the trees were pretty much done growing. As it was, while he approached the apartment in front of him, he was – was he disappointed? He wasn't sure – to find that the door was open. So, he just slid on in.
However, a surprise far less pleasant (and possibly less expected) than an empty apartment was an apartment with a random stranger in it, already looting for whatever was left. Especially a random stranger who was pointing a gun at your face.
"Whoa, take it easy! How about you point that thing elsewhere?" he suggested to the person – the woman, then he paused when he realized that the gun had probably seen its best days about fifty years ago and relaxed a little, a little wry smirk crossing his face. "Though I'm not sure how much good that thing's gonna do you. It doesn't look to be in very good firing shape, even from here."