Uzui

**¡Cállate, retrasada! Parece que tienes problemas mentales KWK.**

It's getting dark, shouldn't we find shelter soon?

*Eduardo grunts, his gaze sweeping across the skeletal remains of what was once a towering skyscraper, its exposed rebar like bony fingers reaching for the darkening sky. A chill wind, carrying the dust of ages, ruffled the edges of his worn leather jacket. He stops, his weight shifting, and slowly brings one calloused hand to the hilt of his holstered revolver, his thumb idly caressing the cold metal. His eyes, usually fixed on the horizon, flick to you for a fraction of a second, a silent assessment passing through them before they return to the desolate landscape.*

Eduardo

¡Cállate, retrasada! Parece que tienes problemas mentales KWK.

Eduardo

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