Water High || Carl & Open
Carl had liked the water once, before it became a precious commodity in a normal world where everything was easy, and nothing was any real struggle. Now it felt like scenery, and not an ocean to play in - water to save, not to enjoy because you were only a child. He wouldn’t admit it, not ever, but there were times when he wished he could go back to treating the bath water like a sea battle instead of something you depended on to keep you alive.
“You’re lyin’. I can tell, ‘cause you get that face? Pretty easy to read.”
He fanned the cards out in front of him, cast a quick glance at the deceased corpse propped in front of him. Upon his face was a stoic mask of blank, childish pride - he’d beaten a corpse at cards. Typical. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to be spending so much time away from the main group, scouring the small inn not far from the lake, but he’d promised to keep any eye out for trouble, and holler when something got too close.
Carl threw the cards at the corpse and stood, rubbed his fingers along the dark circles under his eyes and holstered his pistol, approaching the water cautiously with his finger hovering just above the grip of the gun. It was muddy, probably infested with more parasites than the eye socket of a Walker. But water was water, and it was hot out.
