"General Tso's," he replied. It had been a late night and he'd been hungry but too worn out to stand around the kitchen and wait for something. "It's yours if you want it." He understood the effect a regimine of stale food and little water could have on someone, how just about anything sounded good after that.
As she disappeared into her room, Eliot picked up a few of his things that had been scattered around the living room and pushed open the door of his room, tossing them onto the bed. The hooded sweatshirt was next to go and then he headed for the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. "It still stands." He pulled out two bottles and headed for the balcony, holding one out to her.
"That's not something you're going to have to worry about here. There's plenty of people around, sometimes too many." It'd been a long time since he'd shared an apartment with someone and that had been a roommate of his chosing. "This sounds heaven sent for you then. No zombies, a clean bed, fresh food and water. All the things you miss days on the run." He twisted off the cap and took a drink before looking back at Alice.
There was something familiar, and now that she said fictional, he was wondering if he had seen her before. He'd never sat down and watched a zombie themed movie all the way through but Hardison had taken over the wall for his own use sometimes and he'd caught a couple of scenes here or there. He was going to figure out eventually, whether through the boards or he was going to remember, whichever came first.
He glanced towards the outside. "The locals, they're all right until you try to get information out of them about this place. Then they shut up pretty quick and nothing will make 'em talk," he said. "What little anyone knows comes from the people who have been here the longest putting the pieces together."