He rolls his eyes at her and heads in. Really, he'd do the same in her position, but that doesn't mean it's not obnoxious to have a potential distraction lounging around outside while he's tip-toeing around inside.

The kitchen is wrecked. There's blood on the floor - it appears that someone who lived here was killed and then dragged out through the front door. A frying pan with grease and pieces of egg still stuck to the surface is on the floor, but the eggs are such an unpleasant color of grey and black that even Howard knows better than to try and eat them.

He tries the tap - no luck. Then he looks in the pantry.

Jackpot. A mostly empty case of bottled water, with three bottles still left. Scarcely much else, but beggars can't be choosers. A nearly empty jar of peanut butter and some packs of dried curry sauce. A few strands of spaghetti left in a plastic wrapper. Mayonaise.

Howard knows full well that since the bottles are still sealed, he can't sneak any water without Diana noticing, but she doesn't need to know about the dried pasta. He eats those raw, as well as taking a dip of the peanut butter before sealing it again.

The fridge has eggs, but as he cracks one open, the inside is also black and rotten. No good.

Rather than inviting her in, he takes the spoils out to her. No reason to stay on that killing floor longer that necessary. He walks out, arms full of the two jars and three bottles, and hands her one of the waters.

"One and a half for each of us. You're welcome."