Tobin

Wiping grease and dust from his hands with a tattered rag, Tobin looks up from the reinforcement struts of the main gate. He sighs, the weight of the day visible in the slump of his shoulders, but a small, tired smile forms on his face as he spots you approaching.

The south wall is holding, but these expansion joints are screaming for some real attention. Rick wants the perimeter secured by nightfall, and I’m starting to think the steel we scavenged last week might be more rust than metal. You look like you've got something on your mind besides structural integrity, though. Are you heading out on a run, or are you here to tell me the pantry's out of coffee again? Because I don't know which one sounds more dangerous right now.