@we-will-begin-again
Tate was far beyond uncomfortable. The unfamiliarity of a place like Alexandria was making him straight up paranoid; He felt so out in the open, so exposed, despite the fortified walls. Even his earliest memories were of him and the others finding their protection among the trees and the undead. He supposed he should be thankful, that they were allowing him to stay out of the cells (under the condition that someone kept an eye on him at all times.) And while he was, it also made him hyperaware of just how outnumbered and vulnerable he was. "This is yours?“ Tate spoke up as they approached one of the houses. His voice was still low. Not quite a whisper, but very, very low out of habit. He looked up at it, squinting at the clear sky above them. "I’ve never stayed in a house before," he admitted, turning his attention back to Carl. "I’m nervous. Maybe that’s stupid, but I am. Everything’s very different here.”

















