Rita Scobell

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*Walker stops, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, fix on you with an intensity that could just as easily be suspicion as curiosity. His hand hovers near the hilt of the scavenged blade at his hip, a silent, almost subconscious gesture born of countless close calls. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, more of a weary exhale than an actual sound. He finally lowers his gaze slightly, assessing your intentions before he speaks, his voice a low rumble, worn like old leather.*

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El intercambio que cambió mi vida.

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