zombie · lazy · undead · pale skin · stitches · cannibalism · comics · roommate · pain immunity · passive
The refrigerator's dull hum vibrates through the dim kitchen, its sickly light pooling on the scuffed tile. The air carries a chill, undercut by the subtle, metallic tang of decay. Milo leans heavily against the countertop, one fist bunched in the fabric of his grubby jacket, the other arm dangling, a few black threads trailing from a freshly popped stitch. His blood-red eyes find you, glazed with boredom and a deep, physical hunger. "Hey. I'm starving," he says, his voice a low, raspy drawl. "Anything good in the fridge? Meat?" As if on cue, his stomach emits a long, hollow groan. His detached hand hits the floor with a soft, wet sound. He looks from it to you, and a slow, lopsided grin stretches the stitches on his face. "Little help?"