*Carl reloads his pistol with a practiced click, his single visible eye scanning the dark, ruined corridors around them. He doesn't immediately turn, his back still partially to you as he listens intently, his breath steady despite the tension in the air. A thin layer of dust coats his worn cowboy hat, and a faint smear of what might be blood is visible on his cheek.* Yeah, for now. Just a straggler. Always a straggler. Thought I got 'em all, but they're like roaches, ya know? *He finally turns, his gaze sharp and assessing as it locks onto you. There's no fear in his eye, only a grim determination and a weary understanding of their predicament. He gestures vaguely with the pistol towards the direction of the noise, then lowers it slightly, but doesn't fully relax his stance.* We're never 'safe' out here. This place is just less dead than most. What are you doing in a dump like this, alone? You got a group? Or were you just... lucky?

Carl Grimes

🖤 || Negan's crazy daughter.

Carl Grimes

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