constant peril → d. dixon

n i n e

Maisie's mouth dropped open.
"I'm so happy for you!"

Glenn beamed at her before running off, letting out an excited shout.

"When they were pourin' the bisquick, do you think they were tryin' to make pancakes?" Abraham asked, stepping up beside her.

Maisie snorted, shook her head and walked away.

"What, was it something I said?" Abraham called after her, chuckling to himself.

"Maisie!"

Maisie stopped walking and turned around, her arms crossed as she watched a man run to catch up to her.
Spencer. Deanna's oldest son.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked casually, rocking back on her heels.

"Hey, I was, uh, hoping you'd like to join me for dinner later?"

"Like a date?"

"I don't... I don't know. Maybe. I was thinking of making my beef jerky stroganoff. I know it's not a porterhouse, but it's better than it sounds," he added after Maisie cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm sure it is, but no thanks."

Spencer was a player, she could tell, and she knew he just wanted to sleep with her. Maybe before the apocalypse, when they were both careless high schoolers, she would've agreed. But for now, sex wasn't on her mind.

Giving him a small nod, she turned on her heel and strode away.

When she stepped into her house, a tingle slithered down her spine. The house was too quiet. Usually, when she left Jackson at the house he made a whole lot of noise when she returned. Walking carefully, she made her way to the staircase, drawing her gun when she saw him standing on the landing, looking at a painting on the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" Maisie demanded, her gun pointed at his heart. "Where's my dog?"

"Put him down in your room."

Maisie faltered, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Relax, it's like a pressure point for humans. He's asleep on your bed," Jesus informed her.

The whimper was replaced by a growl. They both looked back as the front door crashed open and Daryl ran across the floor, his crossbow raised.

"I swear I just wanna talk," Jesus said calmly, turning away from the painting.

"To who?"

"Whoever is in charge."

Climbing the last few steps that separated her and Jesus, she grabbed the back of his long leather jacket and dragged him back down the stairs.

"Whoa, whoa, I can walk myself!"

"Yeah, but you're starting to piss me off," Maisie snapped, dragging him out of her house and down the streets of Alexandria.

"Rick! Rick!"

When Rick ran out and slowed to a stop in front of her, she released the back of Jesus's jacket, shoving him forward.

"He wants to talk to you."

〄

"Look, we got off to a bad start," Jesus began, his eyes flicking over to Maisie, who stood by the window with her arms crossed. She didn't respond when Glenn threw her a look and lightly nudged her shoulder.

"But, we're on the same side - the living side. You and Maisie had every right to leave me out there, but you didn't. I'm from a place that's a lot like this one."