The ruins of the pub lay in front of him. Thomas brushed his curly hair back as he towards it. The only emotion the place evoked was a sense of mild disgruntlement that his alcohol supply was slowly sinking.
He stepped inside. He would at least treasure it will it lasted. It had provided months of good service, he should keep it company while it lasted. He preferred that to human company. But human company was what he got when he entered. Prey sat there with a bottle in her hand and she looked quite miserable. "Hmm," he greeted.