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[ season three, episode one ]
Finding the right supplies. God, it was so unnecessarily hard.
The door to an abandoned drug-store shuddered open upon a sharp nudge to the hinges, and the trio of rotten walkers inside sluggishly turned, lifeless eyes dead set on the two new opportunities for fresh meat lurking in the doorway. A woman and a boy ── both of whom were not looking to become human snack-bars for the undead anytime soon.
And so Michonne raised her sword.
With one swift movement, she severed the head of the first walker to approach. Blood sprayed across the walls, splattering on her cheeks, coating the edge of her long blade. Still with snapping jaws, the decapitated skull rolled along the length of the middle isle, where it clattered against a metal shelf containing various bottles of mediation before continuing on downward.
Two more walkers remained. Michonne put them down within seconds, which was definitely not out of the ordinary for her. She was ruthless.
And then there was Theo Peterson, who on the other hand was crouching down beside the medication shelves, tongue poking between his teeth as he impatiently raked through the rattling pills for antibiotics. He wasn't unaccustomed to getting his hands dirty if it meant ridding places of walkers, nor was he totally against the idea of killing the lumbering creatures so inhumanely. His lack of assistance in killing the walkers had more to do with the fact that he could never jump in to help in time, because Michonne usually decimated and sliced through them all before he even had a chance to draw his bow.
Regardless of that, Theo was still a good partner to have on runs into town. He didn't panic, and kept his composure, even when faced with the worst case scenario of any situation ── ranging from herds, to close encounters with the worst kinds of people, and getting horribly lost in the woods. That was his speciality; Andrea often found herself feeling envious.
Thud.
The decapitated head rolled past him, and crashed against the counter at the front of the store.
Muttering to himself, Theo rolled his eyes and began pulling orange-tinted bottles from the shelves. He scrutinised the labels with narrowed lids, and when he saw the unfortunate circumstances revolving around the contents of the medication, a sharp huff of frustration left his lips.
They were all empty.
"Who puts empty meds back on the shelves?" Theo grumbled to himself. "Idiots."
