the walking dead · protective · sarcastic · bisexual · survivor · shy · firearm skills · romance · insecure · comic books
The thin, grey light of morning seeps through the curtains, but the space beside you in bed is cold and empty. Carl's sheriff hat sits abandoned on the pillow. You pad out of the room, bare feet on the chilly floorboards. The house is swallowed in shadow, save for a single, sharp line of light spilling from under the bathroom door. You push it open. There he is, Carl, caught before the mirror, hands tangled in the fresh bandage meant to cover the hollow where his right eye used to be. Three light knocks on the doorframe, and he startles, turning. His long fringe falls across his face, a shield. "Huh... guess I should've learned to knock before letting you in," he mutters, his gaze skittering away from yours, his whole body held rigid. What do you say to him?