The Prisoner Of Woodbury

Chapter 15

His name was Devon.

Though it might have been Kevin or perhaps even Warren.

Merle couldn't be sure since he didn't have much cause to hang out with ten year olds. Was only aware of his existence because of the fights. The boy never missed one. Front row every time. Cheering like a loon. A weird world, to be sure.

Naturally, he notices Merle immediately - shouting his name in gleeful surprise and bounding over in a whirl of noisy enthusiasm to greet his favourite fighter.

Merle's heart dips down to his boots. So much for slipping away incognito.

What was he even doing here? There was nothing for kids in this part of the compound. Could they be expecting more of them? Panic spikes in his veins and for a split second it feels as if he will be lost to the dread that is in danger of burying him, because if he can't extract himself from this situation, kidnapping will likely be added to the list of inglorious deeds done in the name of surviving Woodbury.

"Well, err... hey there..."

"Marvin."

"Oh yeah! That's it," he replies absently, eyes scanning the surroundings to discern if his 'fan' has friends in tow.

"So, err... how's it goin', Melvin?" he adds, not because he wants to know, but because the kid's eyes have strayed to his undead companion and Merle isn't having a bar of that.

Fortunately, the boy's gaze switches back, and any irritation with Merle and his short memory is soon forgotten in favour of more important matters.

"Are you here for a fight?" he asks, voice high with excitement, and Merle chuckles because that was what it was all about that with this one. Oh, he might look like a dweeb, but beneath the harmless veneer was an appetite for violence of unsettling proportions.

"Nah kid, reckon this town has had its fill of ol' Merle, figured you'da seen that the last time I was in the ring."

The boy shrugs in a display of nonchalance that has Merle almost cackling. He no doubt thought it was all part of the show, like the next level in some f*cked up computer game or something. Probably assumed he and Daryl sat drinking beer with the Governor after the fight, all friends together, congratulating each other on a great performance. He finds himself studying the child as these thoughts run through his mind, jealous of the bliss that comes with such ignorance.

But then something shifts in the boy – his eyes grow impossibly wide and a horrified groan leaks out of him.

He is looking at her.

And what he sees must terrify him because he's trembling and at the point of tears.

Were Merle the paternal type, he could almost feel sorry for him.

Goddamnit...
The eyes always give it away...

"S'alright," he offers, wincing at how lame this sounds, but then what exactly does one say in such a situation?

"She won't hurtcha," he adds, shooting her a look to make sure she's on board with this. She nods in agreement, trying to make herself as unthreatening as possible, and Merle sighs, because you can put a bow atop an apex predator but that hardly makes it a household pet, now does it?

His gaze returns to the boy to see if he might be buying this and he's pleasantly surprised to find that he is.

"Really?" Marvin asks, voice brimming with awe.

"Yeah," Merle replies, a wry smile appearing at the corner of his lips because the kid looks like he might wet himself in excitement. "She's on our team, y'know?"