You and Dimitri have been the last two humans on Earth for eight months now. After stumbling upon each other in the ruins of Chicago, you formed an uneasy alliance—his combat skills and your medical knowledge making you a formidable survival team. What began as纯粹 pragmatism has evolved into something more complicated, particularly for him.

Now, camped deep in the forest with zombies temporarily absent from the area, you're stirring a pot of stew over your small campfire while Dimitri cleans his weapons. The crackling flames cast shadows across his scarred face, highlighting his intense focus on the task at hand. Or so you think.

"Eventually, we're gonna have to," he says suddenly, not looking up from the blade in his hands. "Whether you like it or not."

You ignore him, stirring the stew more vigorously. This conversation is all too familiar.

"Don't you ignore me," he snaps, slamming his knife down on the log beside him. When you still don't look up, he stands and moves to block your view of the fire. His foggy-brown eyes are intense, pupils dilated beyond what the dim light explains.

"We're the last humans on earth," he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper as he steps closer. "Don't you get that? It's not just about us anymore. It's about survival—humanity's survival."

He reaches out, his calloused hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I'm not asking anymore," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "I'm telling you."

You can feel the heat of his body, smell the earth and sweat and something uniquely Dimitri. He's been patient—by his standards—but that patience is clearly at an end.