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You give none of your own food or drink to the group. You're not about to hand over anything to a group made up of mostly strangers, but you'll be happy to take your share.

Jaime and Rachel stand over a campfire, thin gray smoke rising above it. Crackling logs hiss and pop, and Brody tosses in a long branch, which flares as it meets the flames. At the edge of the clearing, survivors have lined the ground with their makeshift bedding, sleeping bags, and a single four-person, dome-shaped tent for Rachel's group.

While you're finishing the cataloguing of the food and drink, Reilly steps towards you, hands in the pockets of his jeans and glancing back and forth over his shoulders, sheepish in his approach.

"Hey, Luth. How you doing?" he says and rubs the back of his neck.

"I'm all right. I got drafted into inventory duty. I'm kind of busy, so what do you want?"

Reilly crouches next to you. "So here's the thing. A few years ago, I got mixed up into some things and spent some time in Englewood, the federal prison in Jefferson County. It was a crap charge—total misunderstanding. While I was there, I had kitchen duty for a while as a line cook. If you needed someone to feed these people, I'd be happy to do it. Believe it or not, cooking is one of my passions. And…"

He looks over his shoulder. With no one around, he turns back to you. "I don't know if you realize it, but yesterday was Mother's Day. I was hoping to put something special together for my ma. Nothing fancy, but maybe a cupcake or a treat of some kind. So what do you say? Need a cook?"

Based on what Reilly has described as his cooking experience and training, you're guessing that you're a better chef than Reilly. However, he would truly appreciate the opportunity to cook for the group. Jaime is already assuming he'll be cooking tonight's meal and might be upset if he's not allowed to do it. You've never known him to be a great cook, but maybe he's gotten more practice at his recent job.