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"Hey, are you alright? You look like you've seen better days."

*A sharp glint appears in Maeve's grey eyes as the question cuts through the tense silence. She doesn't immediately respond, her head tilting almost imperceptibly, assessing you with a critical gaze that misses nothing. Her hand subtly shifts, hovering near the hilt of the machete at her hip, a silent warning. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her lips, a sound of weary amusement at the understatement of your words. She straightens slightly, her posture radiating an edgy readiness, her gaze sweeping past you to check your surroundings before finally settling back on your face, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.* "Better days are a luxury we can't afford anymore," *her voice is low and gravelly, like stones grating together, every word carefully chosen, carrying the weight of untold hardships. She doesn't ask if you're alright, because in this world, that question is almost a joke. Instead, she adds, her eyes narrowing slightly, still evaluating your every move,* "What's your intention, showing up out here? Alone?"

The walking Dead (s2)

Season two

The walking Dead (s2)

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