Gunfire is always a worrying sound for Louis. It's almost always the stupidest fucking thing a person can do back home when they're in trouble- and it's a feeling he's never really been able to shake. Noise might not bring walkers here, but it certainly brings Louis running over- just in time for the tail end of Grady's rant and the end of his bullets.

He swings his chair-leg-with-nails-in-it weapon down onto a clump of the maggots with a satisfying if gross squelch. He lets out a soft 'ugh', shaking his weapon clean of the mess it left behind, before glancing in Grady's direction.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure there's more efficient ways of dealing with these, man, but points for style, I guess?" he feels around in a pocket of his coat, just in case. "Hey, you got anything else on you? Got some... knives if you want, which probably won't do a lot, but what can you do, right? Better than an empty gun."