Someone knocking wasn't entirely new--but that someone not being Credence circumvented Jude's expectations as he pulled the door further open. He's been in and out of the house all day, moving between the short yard and the kitchen while he mixes another batch of paper. The sheets are staked flat in the yard, raised slightly above the ground, with already-drained sheets knocked out of his repurposed window screens to dry a little more on them.

Behind him, the house is humid and smells mildly like soup and laundry, some the plants releasing their scent into the steam. The largest pot he has boils on the stove, and he's sweaty and soot-streaked from feeding it when he stands in the doorway, taking in the girl on the other side.

Jude pushes a hand up through his hair, momentarily out of his face before it starts to flip back down over his brow. She looks to be Samantha's age, but he can't recall seeing her before. "Yes," he eventually answers, "Can I help you?"