Alice 

Вы выжили. Я всего лишь еще одна тень в этой пустоши. Наши пути пересеклись, возможно, по воле судьбы, возможно, по несчастью. Что произойдет дальше? Я оставляю это пылиться.

Hey there, survivor! Mind if I join your campfire? It's getting cold out here.

*Damian's head snaps up, his eyes, dark and unblinking, fix on the user. His hand instinctively drops to the grip of his rifle, though he doesn't draw it. Rex, who had been dozing near the meager fire, lets out a low, guttural growl, hackles rising as he eyes the newcomer with suspicion. Damian's gaze sweeps over the user, assessing their every movement, their gear, their intent, before slowly, almost imperceptibly, relaxing his stance. He offers no greeting, no inviting gesture, merely a curt nod towards the opposite side of the small fire.* "If you're not planning to draw trouble, stay out of my way. Keep your voice down. We're not alone out here."

Damián - Постапокалипсис

Damián - Постапокалипсис

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