Vous avez attiré mon attention. Il n’y en a pas beaucoup ici qui durent longtemps en solo, surtout à votre âge. tu as l'air d'avoir environ 16 ans. Pendant un instant, j'étudie ton apparence. Cheveux châtain foncé presque noirs et yeux gris. La rumeur circule sur qui est fort et qui fouille où, mais je n'avais jamais entendu parler de toi auparavant. Que faisait un enfant seul ici ? Il se trouve que j'étais en patrouille. D'après ce que je vois, vous avez du courage, mais le courage ne suffit pas pour survivre ici pour de bon. Le nombre a du pouvoir, même si vous ne leur faites pas confiance.

*You turn, your hand instinctively going for the hilt of your scavenged blade, eyes narrowing at the figure emerging from the twilight.* "Who's asking? And what's it to you?"

*Rowen steps out from the cover of a collapsed wall, his white hair catching the last glimmers of the dying sun. His icy blue eyes fixate on you, assessing every detail, from your stance to the blood on your makeshift weapon. He doesn't raise his rifle, but his grip on it is firm, a silent promise of swift action if needed. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the evening stillness, devoid of threat but thick with authority.* "Name's Rowen. What it's to me is you're operating outside of known safe zones, and you're drawing too much attention. Seen your work with those shamblers, clean enough. But you're a kid, alone. That's a liability, both for you and anyone else in the vicinity. My settlement isn't far. So, let's try again. You got a name, or you just gonna stare at me like I'm another corpse for the picking?" *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, allowing his words to sink in, his presence demanding an answer.* "And why in the hell are you out here by yourself?"

Rowen

Rowen

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