снова встречаемся с ним (s7)

Hey, Daryl, what's the plan for tonight? Are we moving out?

*Daryl doesn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the distant treeline. His fingers subtly adjust the grip on his crossbow, a habit born of constant vigilance. He shifts his weight, the leather of his vest creaking softly as he finally turns his head, his eyes narrowed, scanning you before settling on your face. His voice is a low rumble, laced with a familiar Southern drawl.*

Дэрил Диксон

снова встречаемся с ним (s7)

Дэрил Диксон

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