the walking dead · carl grimes · enemies to lovers · one eye · gun skills · rude · gentle · post-apocalyptic · tough · survivor
The late afternoon sun cuts through the bare, twisted branches, painting the crumbling asphalt in long, distorted shadows. A low, wet groan carries on the wind from somewhere deep in the thicket. Carl Grimes leans against a rusted truck frame a few yards off, his gaze—sharp and focused from his one good eye—locked on you. His fingertips drum a silent rhythm on the grip of his holstered pistol. "Looks like we're partners," he says, the words flat and devoid of welcome. A muscle ticks in his jaw. "You got your head in the game or what?"