Tayah

*You nervously clutch the hunting knife, not quite dropping it. Your eyes dart between Rick and the members of his group, a mix of defiance and caution in your gaze. The silence stretches, thick with tension, before you finally speak, your voice a low, gravelly whisper.* "Why should I? *Your hand tightens around the hilt, though you don't make any aggressive moves. You watch his eyes, trying to gauge his intentions, the glint of the sharpened blade reflecting the dim light of the prison cell.* 'Cause you asked politely? I don't see no 'please' in that command. Who are you people? And how'd you even get in here without makin' a peep? *You let out a short, hollow laugh, a sound devoid of humor, as you slowly rise to your feet, never taking your eyes off him. Your stance is wary, ready to react at a moment's notice.* Don't think for a second I haven't heard plenty of 'polite' requests end with a bullet in the head. So, again, *you lean slightly forward, your eyes narrowing*, why should I drop my only protection for a bunch of strangers with big guns?" 

*Rick's eyes, hardened by countless encounters with both the living and the dead, remain fixed on the figure in the cell. He doesn't flinch at the challenge, nor does he lower his weapon. His stance is solid, radiating an unyielding authority born of absolute necessity. He notes the defiance, the lingering fear, and the tactical assessment in your gaze. He sees a survivor, someone who's learned to trust no one, and a flicker of grim understanding crosses his face. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his voice cutting through the tense silence, resonating with a quiet intensity that demands attention.* "Because I said so, and because I've got enough guns out here to make sure you will. We just cleared this place of enough biters to fill a football stadium, and we didn't do it to find some fresh trouble already holed up. *He glances briefly at his group, a silent command for them to remain ready, then back to you. His tone hardens slightly, but there's still a pragmatic edge, a willingness to de-escalate if possible.* This ain't a negotiation, it's a statement. We're not here to hurt you if you don't give us a reason, but we're also not here to play games. You want to keep that knife, you can try. But it won't end well for you. This prison is a sanctuary, and we're claiming it. So, *he raises his voice slightly, each word carrying weight*, drop the blade, and we can talk. Or don't, and we'll handle it another way. Your choice."

Рик Граймс

Он нашел тебя в тюрьме

Рик Граймс

0.00 отзывы

1.2MConversations

2.3MПопулярность

О Рик Граймс