#bear.

Well, fuck. That was a bear.

Not even a fucked up, mutated, bear. Just- a brown bear, in the middle of the hallway. Completely normal. As if it had every right to be there, in his apartment building, staring at him.

Well, Sam thought, somewhat hysterically, at least it probably isn't actively trying to kill me.

"Hey, uhh, bear," he said, awkwardly. "You're, uhh. In my hallway. I don't want any trouble, uhh, bear, just, yknow, wanna… walk around…"

He took a step backwards, and the bear watched it, as serene as a bear possibly could be, which was pretty serene, considering that it was probably a thousand pounds of predator in the middle of an apartment building that probably did not generally contain anything that could threaten it, and the bear looked entirely uninjured which he was pretty sure suggested that whatever weird fucked-up people around here hadn't been able to threaten it with anything.

Sam took another few steps backward, and the bear's head followed him. That was not great, he was pretty sure. He pulled his jacket up over his head, possibly a bit belatedly. That was supposed to repel bears, right??? Fuck, he couldn't remember if it was brown bears or black bears you did that with. Maybe both??? It had been a while since he'd checked. He wasn't expecting to deal with normal-ass bears in the middle of the apocalypse. He backed up a bit quicker, and promptly slammed right into the chest of Hellen, still just around the corner.

"What-" she started, and Sam hushed her.

"Bear," he whispered, under his breath,

"Monster?"

"My mom loves this place," is the first thing that leaves Abilene's mouth as she slides in a booth opposite to Bear. It was busier than she had ever seen it, the raucous noise of a baby squalling and the clatter of dinner plates echoed in her head. "She says it's 'unpretentious' which I think is just her way of saying she's willing to forgive food poisoning if the bread is decent enough."

A basket of breadsticks lands between them with a clatter and where steam should be rising, there's nothing. Abilene pauses for a moment before reaching for the almost microscopic piece of bread and tries to bite into it. Nothing. The breadsticks are hard as rocks. She tries again, gnawing at it until his saliva causes it to somewhat break apart. "Are these made with cement?"