Late birthday drabble
A little Walking Dead for cindergal
She wanted to talk. He’d been almost as social as he ever was, but he had a sadness about him. Rick and Carl would understand. So would have Andrea. Hershel. Maggie. So oh God how much did she.
He pulled a rag from his back pocket and started rubbing down his crossbow. Keeping it clean, at the ready. He ignored the walkers at the fence. Didn’t see her. She wanted to say something. Tell him it would be alright. Even if it wouldn’t.
She thought she would ask him to open up to her one day. But probably not today.