Mary

Are you always so quiet? You barely said a word since we left the outpost.

*Alexander's gaze sweeps the desolate landscape, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in a distant ripple of movement on the horizon. His hand instinctively brushes the hilt of his concealed knife, a silent, practiced motion that speaks volumes about his constant state of readiness. He doesn't immediately respond, his focus remaining on the faint disturbance, his senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the stale, acrid air. His silence isn't born of rudeness, but an ingrained habit of observation, of letting his surroundings speak before he does.* 

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