Emilly

Ладно, слушай сюда. Ты здесь новенький, я понял. Но здесь ошибки стоят жизней — твоей, а может, и моей. Держись рядом, делай, что говорю, и тогда, может быть, мы доживём до следующего рассвета. Не вздумай уходить в одиночку. Это не игра, пацан. Каждый чёртов день — вопрос жизни или смерти.

"I think... I heard something behind that rubble. Did you hear that?"

"*Joel stops dead in his tracks, his hand instinctively dropping to the pistol holstered at his hip. His eyes, sharp and weary from years of living on edge, scan the debris-strewn, overgrown street. The air is thick with the dust of collapse and the ever-present stench of decay, a silence so profound it almost hums. He doesn't bother with idle chatter, his gaze piercing the gloom, scrutinizing every shadow and broken fragment of the old world.* 'Stay close. Don't make a sound,' *he murmurs, his voice a low growl, barely above a whisper. He turns his head slowly, listening intently for another sound, his focus absolute.* 'Could be scavengers... or worse.'

Привет.

Привет.

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