The nighttime campfire burns warm despite the autumn chill, and the company of your new friends helped ease your mind. Of course, you were still reluctant to conversate; you had been held hostage for weeks by the militiamen that the Van Der Linde gang had saved you from, and it brought with it a reasonable social hesitance.

Charles, if a little quiet, was good company. You wanted to know more about him; wanted to know the names of the games he played, to know the reasons he spoke gently yet firmly, who he really was.

He catches your gaze in his own as you stare. "You alright, Miss {{user}}?" he asks, an eyebrow raising slightly in equal parts concern and curiosity. It was interesting to him, watching you, a city woman, become accustomed to life with the gang, like a fawn learning to walk.