" gods, i miss electricity. " amongst other things, like running water, stoves, and pillows. nice, fluffy blankets. the old couch he had in his apartment that was worn in enough to be perfectly formed to his body when he stretched out to take a nap, while also being wide enough that he didn't feel like he was hanging off. kerrin missed fresh socks and washing his face.

but, mostly, it was the electricity.

looking up to the sky, bright eyes scan the horizon. only a few hours yet of said resource, if he'd learned to read the angles right. that meant there was only that much time to find a good place to lay their heads, clear out the space, and set up protections. scavenging for supplies would have to get put on the back burner until the light came back in the morning.

" not much of it left, " kerrin sighed. with his eyesight back down at the horizon, he looked at all the tired faces that surrounded him. some were dejected, one or two still had a spark of hope, and others were just plain angry. understandable, considering everything they'd been through.

kerrin had the good grace to look offended as he looked up from the bottom floor of the abandoned warehouse they'd found. the machete in his left hand raises up, more playful than threatening, as if to give his words a direct line to their destination.

" love you, too, " the former fighter sticks out the tip of his tongue.

before the world fell apart, he'd been an mma fighter. learning different types of martial arts allowed him to take all that pent up rage and put it somewhere useful. his parents hated each other and used him like a tennis ball to try and throw the lowest blow at the other side. somehow, everyone was surprised when this ended up causing anger issues.

fighting helped him let everything go. weirdly enough, it also put him in touch with nature and spirituality. he never would've imagined that he'd have to use those techniques to help protect himself from the undead.

everything was so surreal. a pile of laundry, smelling fresh as the sky after the rain, was piled on her couch. her couch. looking up, blue eyes scanned over a hardwood table with a notebook she'd actually been writing songs in with real pens. at night, she was allowed a hot shower with soap and a loofa. at night, she'd been able to put her head on a god damn pillow under a blanket that wasn't nearly warm enough but the other body laying next to her helped with that.

out there, in the woods and the torn world, halston had been so convinced she was going to die. half the time, she'd even convinced herself that her life in new york had been nothing but a dream. or, a nightmare, depending on how one chose to look at it.

a tear rolls down her cheek. then another. sniffling, the musician wipes at her cheek with the rolled up material on her forearm before quickly finishing the fold on the shirt she'd been holding.

in front of her, the door quietly clicks shut after daryl walked through. another tear rolls down her cheek.

" hey, " halston sniffs again. as quickly as she looked up, she looked back down to hide the crying. another shirt was folded and set to the side, then a pair of socks. she had her hands on a jacket when daryl's voice hit her ears, making her entire body freeze.

" i'm fine, " a hand automatically goes to her abdomen and then drops. the last thing she needed, or even had time for, was a conversation on why she'd had the impulse to do it. no one knew yet. just the doctor. with the world as scary as it was, halston felt like everything could change in an instant. so, why give everyone that kind of hope only for it to break their hearts?

halston had never been a fighter. the closest thing that could be considered fighting, for her, were the words she used to write for songs. so, so many of them came from the various pains people had inflicted upon her over her life. other bits were unresolved issues from her childhood. overall, though, the word was her weapon.

when she'd first met kerrin, he'd told her that was just as good as any blade or gun. that she could use those words to give people hope just as much as tear them down.

on more than one occasion, she'd begged him to teach her how to throw a punch. how to protect herself. as she lifted a leg over negan's lap to sit on his thighs, facing him, halston finally let go of the anger that had risen from kerrin's refusal. the former boxer had reminded her, repeatedly, to go for the brain when defending from a walker but wouldn't teach her a proper right hook.

leaning in, she kisses the tip of the older man's nose. pulling back a fraction, bright blue eyes start taking inventory of every inch of his face as if to make sure everything is as it should be. no bruises. no cuts. no scrapes. several long seconds go by. only when her lungs start to burn does halston realize she's been holding her breath.

" i'm glad you're okay, " both arms slide around his neck to pull him in close. lip press tight together to keep from saying the rest; that she worries about him when he's gone. is that too weak? too gentle? in this new world, it felt like that was a trait frowned upon now so, she tried to hide it as much as she could. that was part of the reason she wanted kerrin to teach her how to throw punches.

the burgundy beanie normally on top of his head was shoved into one of the back pockets of his jeans. a m16a1 is on a sling, crossed over his chest so it could hang from a shoulder. shoved between his back and the pack carrying all his items was a sheath used to hold the machete he'd picked up a lifetime ago.

it's the machete he's holding in his left hand, blade pointed towards the ground as if hale no longer had the strength to hold it up. scenes like this tended to have the worst effect on him. dead walkers? hale didn't care. there was so much disconnect in his brain between those and real people, at this point, that it was almost like playing a video game.

unfortunately, the scene spread out before him wasn't the second dead corpses of the risen. human greed had done this. maybe a little fear was sprinkled in there, too. didn't stop the nausea from burning the put of his stomach and threatening to slide up his throat.