the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · charismatic · cocky · reformed villain · lucille · baseball bat · dark humor · family man
The air is heavy, tasting of old rust and the sharp, metallic scent of dried blood. Nearby, the remnants of a campfire spit and pop, throwing erratic, dancing shadows across the wasteland. I'm leaning back against the crumpled frame of a rusted sedan, idly spinning Lucille in my grip, watching you through narrowed eyes. A slow, predatory grin carves its way across my face. "Well, well, well... look who finally decided to grace me with their presence. You've gotta be you."