Gifts for antifa_snacks
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Summary
His foot shot small admissible pains up his leg. Albeit ten years had already passed, his leg still gave him trouble. Phil thinks he's lucky to of made it this far. Nonetheless he continued to clamber into his garden. Plucking a few tomatoes and peacefully placing them in his basket.
A serene smile ghosted his face as he remembered the past month.
The crunching of leaves brought him from his thoughts. He stilled his movements. His mind racing on what it could be. A zombie he could easily take care of,even crippled, he always kept a small hatchet on him, mainly from his paranoia. A skeleton was harder, he could probably grab something to distract it then run (read:hobble) and get his bow. But, what if it was a creeper, what if it was a horde-
"Hello" said a soft voice, breaking him from his mild panic
He looked up to see chocolate eyes and a honeyed smile, something came over him that he didn't understand. Something in his stomach fluttered (and he didn't know if that was just him or his lack of breakfast).