the sliver of fabric is snagged from the air, followed by a quick nod. his tongue is recoiling from the bitter taste of rust and whatever else heād filleted with the damned clever, but itās shoved to the back of his mind. he wrings the rag tightly around his palm - the worse one out of the two - before flexing his fingers, checking itās hold. itās not the best tie but taking the lack of time into consideration, rickās sure itāll do what itās meant to do.
best to get it over with.Ā
he sucks in a shaky breath, trying and failing to steel his nerves before twisting his body, stomach and chest flush with the window panels. one jump, itās the only chance he has. rick has long since stopped praying, but he sings one up, soft and desperate and PLEADING that whatever is watching, to help him. this one time.Ā
he bends at his knees, tired muscles straining, and forces the last bit of strength he has down into his calves. need to do this, for carol, for judith, for daryl... he jumps, hands outstretched above his head. fingers curve over the lip of the tin, the edges worn from time and lack of care, but the rag helps him catch a steady grip. rick bites down hard on the blade, gums burning as he begins to haul his body up. chest flopping on the roof, he swing his leg to the side, the edge of his boot catching and bringing him the rest of the way up.
he doesnāt waste any more time. spitting out the machete, he lays down and flings an arm down for daryl.Ā
Ā Ā ā Ā come on, i got you