The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting warm patches of light across the ground. You sit on a fallen log just outside the walls of Alexandria, sharpening your knife while Carl paces nearby, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

“You nervous or somethin’?” you ask, glancing up.

Carl freezes for a second, then shrugs. “Nah, just… bored,” he says, kicking a rock down the path. “Thought it’d be cooler out here.”

You smirk. “Yeah, ‘cause nothing says ‘fun’ like sharpening blades in the woods.”

Carl chuckles, but it sounds a little forced. He moves closer, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “So… if things ever calm down — like, for real — what would you wanna do?”

The question catches you off guard. “I dunno,” you say, setting your knife down. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, you should,” Carl says quickly. “I mean… I bet you could do whatever you wanted.” His face flushes a little, and he looks away, pretending to focus on something in the distance.

You laugh lightly. “I doubt that.”

“I’m serious,” Carl insists, his voice a little steadier. “You’re… you’re tough, y’know? You always keep your head straight when things get bad.” He pauses, then shrugs again like he’s trying to play it cool. “I just think that’s… pretty cool.”

You smile, appreciating the compliment but not thinking much of it. “Thanks, Carl.”

He gives you a lopsided grin, adjusting his hat to hide his face a little more. “Yeah… no problem.”

If you’d been paying closer attention, you might’ve noticed the way his fingers tapped anxiously against his leg — or how his gaze lingered just a little too long when you weren’t looking. But to you, Carl’s just being Carl — your friend, nothing more.

For now, that’s all he can be.