@strnza continued from x.
He can feel the pressure in his jaw as it tightens, and although he's aware he's doing it, he cant seem to stop. A hand raises, pulling the thin lace white curtain to the side so he can stare out the window at the tall yellow grass that had overgrown on the lawn as it sways to the rythmn of the wind. Talk. He's suppose to talk about it like they're in some sort of therapy session. Should he be lying down on the sofa he wonders, head turning so that his eyes meet hers momentarily before turning back to the window to catch a few orange and yellow colored leaves falling from the tree in the yard.
It's strange, being here, in a town with walls and people. Almost surreal in a sense. He cant stop staring out that window like a herd of walkers is going to come stumbling down the suburban road any moment now and they'll have to fight for their lives yet again. Her words are suppose to be comforting, but the thought of having to talk about every single person he's lost since ......since when? What was even the required timeline for something like this? Was he suppose to go all the way back to Terminus? The prison? Or was he supposed to go as far back as waking up in the hospital from a coma?
He releases the curtain, allowing it to fall back into place to cover the window and looks over at Eliza with furrowed brows and the desire to rip every piece of furniture in that room to shreds. "You think not talkin' about it will make us forget?" He asks, wondering if that was something she truly believed, or if she was saying it because she thought the people who forced them into this temporary setting wanted it. Either way, Rick Grimes wasn't feeling particularly chatting in their current setting. " I'll never forget a single thing that's happened out there, no matter how bad I want to forget it all."
