Твой ревнивый лучший друг пошел шпионить за тобой

"Hey, Carl. You okay? You've been quiet."

*Carl adjusts the worn brim of his sheriff's hat, his one visible eye scanning the perimeter, never quite settling. The wind whispers through the skeletal trees, carrying the faint, distant moans of walkers. He lets out a slow breath, the air cool and crisp against his scarred cheek. His hands, though still young, are calloused, resting lightly on the hilt of his holstered pistol as if ready to draw at a moment's notice.*

Карл Граймс

Твой ревнивый лучший друг пошел шпионить за тобой

Карл Граймс

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