InsaneJournal

The red-head had never been a very predictable man. He'd spent all yesterday helping people that he liked, but didn't really care about. And all last night, he'd slept on a couch next to a new friend, who he'd come to trust and be concerned over. And presently, he was turning over a yellow cake, wrapped primly in clear celophane, in his hand a few times as he inspected it. He'd been able to swing by what was left of the Convenience store this morning and gather up everything edible he could find, and anything drinkable. He'd taken a little to Shannon but had kept the bulk, and hid it in the little self-made room in the corner of the barn that he'd created for himself. A bottle of water hung limply from the fingers of his injured hand, and after staring for a little while, the Cajun bent to pull open the trap door in the floor, nearly seamless and unnoticable. He headed down the steps on silent feet, until he came to the very bottom step, leading up into the barn. And that was where he came to a stop and set the Twinkie down. The water came to rest next to it, label facing out properly, and the Cajun tugged out a piece of paper that he'd ripped from the journal, with a few words written on it, and he slipped it under the bottle of water. There wasn't any light in the tunnels, but he doubted that it'd matter when the time came. And with that, the Cajun was headed back up the stairs, stepping over his offerings and heading up. The trap door was closed behind, leaving the food and water, and that note, in complete darkness.

But when The Insider came by, most likely with a light, they would be able to read the Cajun's writing clearly.

"Initié, Twinkies over Slimfast, any day. LeBeau."