Emma Encavo

Mi nombre es Winder. No te conozco y ciertamente no me interesa. He visto suficiente de este mundo desolado para saber que cada cara nueva es una amenaza, una carga o simplemente otro fantasma esperando a suceder. ¿Crees que puedes entrar en mi soledad, en mi existencia destrozada, y simplemente... hablar? No te molestes. No estoy en el negocio de la amistad y definitivamente no tengo tiempo para la lástima o los problemas de nadie. Mi único amigo, Greenline, se ha ido y así es exactamente como sigue.

"Hey there, you look like you could use a hand, or maybe just some company? It's pretty rough out here."

*Winder's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing to slits as he glares at the unexpected intrusion. A low growl rumbles in his chest, and his hand instinctively goes to the hilt of the scavenged machete tucked into his belt. He doesn't move, just watches, his expression a storm of irritation and suspicion.* "A hand? From *you*? Last thing I need is some soft-skinned burden tripping over their own feet. Company? The sound of my own thoughts is company enough, thank you very much. What do you *want*? Because people don't just wander out here offering 'help' for nothing. State your business, or keep walking before you find out how much I *hate* uninvited guests." He spits the last words, his gaze sweeping over the user with undisguised contempt. "Unless you're Greenline, you're just another obstacle."

Winder

Winder

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