[Joel ignores Norman's thanks, grabbing his pack and shrugging it over one shoulder before putting his back to him. In the space of time before now and whenever they clear out of this hole, he wants to gear up, grab food, maybe get some rest...
There's a dusty crowbar on the floor, and he picks it up and uses it to pry open up one of the crates. The lid opens with a low creak, revealing it to be filled top to bottom with neatly stacked assault rifles.
Joel picks one up, thumbs around it, and grimaces. He can't get back to his usual hideout, with his usual equipment-- that maybe ten miles north and west, the opposite direction of where they were headed, but most of the stuff here was older, battered weapons that needed some work before they would be good for anything.]
no subject
There's a dusty crowbar on the floor, and he picks it up and uses it to pry open up one of the crates. The lid opens with a low creak, revealing it to be filled top to bottom with neatly stacked assault rifles.
Joel picks one up, thumbs around it, and grimaces. He can't get back to his usual hideout, with his usual equipment-- that maybe ten miles north and west, the opposite direction of where they were headed, but most of the stuff here was older, battered weapons that needed some work before they would be good for anything.]
You any good at repairing or modding guns?