Sarge and agitation go together like bones and marrow, but with the activities planned for the next day he is feeling extra restless. To avoid thinking any further on the possibilities of traps and all the ways their meeting with that Capitol bitch could go wrong he decided to take a couple of hours off to stroll through the city because it beats sitting around and watch the thoughts ricochet in his head. If he finds some zombies to distract him or something worth scavenging, even better.
Equipped with a backpack, his knife and a baseball bat, his gun tucked into his belt just in case, he strolls through the by now familiar territory without really looking at anything. Bothering with stealth is not necessary, he knows he isn't exactly quiet and at this point he would welcome any and all incidents. What he didn't expect to hear was singing, as pitiful as it sounds, and against all better judgement - as usual - he follows the sounds until he spots the small figure curled up on the pavement.
It would be easy to dismiss it and just keep moving, maybe it's another junkie. But the person looks small and even if it was one of the Ghouls Sarge can't just walk away. So he carefully creeps closer until his shadow looms over what seems to be a boy, and he's not dead or, as far as he can tell, on wash. "You okay there, kid?" It's a very stupid question, really, but he asks anyway.