The ceramic cat felt cool in the palm of my hand. In the distance the murmur of the seething masses passed below us, murderous and hungry. Crouched against each other, we leaned our backs against the cool walls for support. We needed to stay concealed. We needed to stay safe. I peeked my head up just slightly, trying not to be seen, and looking for an escape. I could smell the sweat in Rick's clothes. I could smell the hint of spearmint gum on his breath as he exhaled into my hair. He reached out to me with a steady hand and brushed a tangle of locs away from my cheek.
"Michonne," it sounded like a low growl, and I could feel the want of him clawing at me from the inside. I wanted to reach out and pull him close to me. Breathe in the spearmint, suck on his bottom lip, and bury my hands in that mass of dark curls.
"Yes," I said.