𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒, the walking dead

5.

❝ 𝖨 𝖥𝖤𝖫𝖫 𝖨𝖭 𝖫𝖮𝖵𝖤
𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖠 𝖶𝖠𝖱. ❞

Later on, Rick and Michonne returned to the prison with Maggie and Glenn. The absence of Daryl and Oscar makes Ross immediately tense upon sight. His first concern is Glenn, running up to his friend to make sure he's okay as soon as he sees him.

"I'd hate to see the other guy." Ross attempts to crack a joke when he sees the state of Glenn's face. The older smiles at the very corner of his mouth, shaking his head.

"Other guy's dead." He nudges the brunet.

"And I'd hate to see him!"

Glenn laughs and Ross feels a sense of accomplishment. "Shut up. What's happening here?" He gestures to the group that were kept to themselves. Rick hears Glenn's question and walks over to listen to Ross explain.

"I couldn't move for a couple of hours after Hershel stitched me up— If I did they'd tear open again. So when I was down, Carl managed to wander off to the other side of the prison and found them. They got in through breach, fallen fence or something. They seem like nice people, barely armed," Ross finishes, glancing over at them once again. "Where the hell are Daryl and Oscar?"

Rick's eyes bounce around erratically. He's still in rough shape from losing his wife, anyone could tell. He mumbles something incoherent to Glenn, who nods and the pair take off towards the unknown group, where Hershel and Carol already were. Although excluded from the conversation, Ross follows.

So far, during his time in the prison, Ross has caught a total of one important conversation. It felt like every word going into his ears as his uncle and Glenn and Hershel speak are cascading out of the other. As if the pain of being cut open and losing his aunt-slash-mother-figure in under twenty four hours was taking up all of his brain space. Carl was also at the front of his mind, his younger cousin's reckless behavior racking at his brain even though he'd confronted the other about it. On one hand, he knows better than anyone else that preteens will be preteens, but it feels like that rule isn't in place in an apocalypse state. It makes him miss when he could just sleep his problems off— given the problems were usually math homework or something else alike.

Voices waft back into his ears, the words sticking this time. "...take him, please," Sasha's voice urges. "He's too young to keep going with us. You people have a roof over your heads, give him the life he deserves."

Ross' ears perk up. Rick was turning these people away? It didn't make any sense, they were good people and it couldn't help to bulk up their defense. They were obviously okay fighters if they made it this far. It made him angry, how inconsiderate Rick was in this moment. They had all this room.

"No, I'm sorry, he's better off with you all. Don't abandon your family with strangers," Rick insists. As Glenn is about to speak, the younger dark-skinned woman (Zoe, he quickly recalls) interrupts.

"Alfie is my younger brother. He can take care of himself, which is why I'm not concerned with you all being strangers or trying to hurt him, because he will put up a fight and win or die trying. But please, I don't want him to keep wandering with us. He deserves a bed and food even if you're going to turn all of us away." Zoe's mouth is moving as fast as a bullet train, but her tone is unwavering. Ross admires how she's solid in her wood.

His eyes move to Alfie, watching his conflicted gaze shift between the adults. His family is offering him up to be left behind, thinking it's the best for him. The people they're putting their trust in are adamantly against the idea of housing him. When Rick starts degrading and spewing off more and more shit, Ross steps in with a fire on the tip of his tongue.