There wasn't much she could do about it.
She has been so broken about the whole situation for so long; she felt numb.
The pain was still there, but like all things she'd gotten used to it in a way.
Carol really didn't understand. She had experienced so much grief and confusion in her life, but in this case experience didn't really make it more tolerable.
When Ed was killed that night, Carol felt broken in the same way, but at the same time it was completely opposite.
Ed was gone, and she felt numb because she didn't really know how to react.
She wept, but the tears were hollow. The emptiness Ed left in her was something she knew should never be filled again. The insecurities, the submission.
Then there were the habits. She was so used to being pushed around by the burly man. What now? After the shock, her mother-instinct kicked in full force. Carol suddenly existed for one sole purpose; Her child. Her daughter. Sophia.
Even though the apocalypse made everything move faster, Ed's death seemed to make everything happen even faster.
It felt as if she was speeding in slow-motion, her thoughts never really catching up on her actions. She was suddenly good enough, and she felt strong and secure, even though it didn't always make sense. Sophia depended on this. The time of Walkers demanded it from her.
Carol's breath hitched. Just a bit. She was supposed to feel better now after all.
Without realizing it, her hands reached her throat and started to squeeze until tiny, black spots wormed into her vision. Gasping, she let her hands drop to the dry ground. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but it was long enough for her knees to crack as she shifted, stretching her legs in front of her instead of sitting on them.
Carol always did this; Her thoughts wandered back to Ed's death more often than not. The anger she felt from re-living the memories so vividly was starting to escalate beyond reason.
She couldn't help it. Ed's death was where everything started, changed her from the inside out.
Though Carol became stronger she also became more violent and emotional; her moodswings resulting in unreasoned distrust towards Rick. There was no balance anymore. She didn't really understand, and it was hard to figure out. Maybe she didn't want to. She didn't care, as long as her daughter was cared for as best as possible.
Carol thinking about Ed's death always resulted in agonizing fear of losing her daughter. But Sophia was already gone, the realization kicking her hard in the guts every. Damn. Time.
It was like a loop; the moment Walkers attacted their camp and ripped Ed apart, up until Sophia's disappearance, death, and every damn thing in between.
All these thoughts, replays, swimming around in Carols head.
Why was she doing this to herself? Why? It was hard not to. She'd lost everything she knew. After the initial shock from Ed's death, she somehow knew exactly what to do. Now that Sophia's gone, Carol knew nothing. Although Carol was well-aware of everyone's respective grief in this group, it didn't comfort her in the least. It only worked to add guilt that grew like a virus in her system.
Where was unstable-but-confident-Carol now?
Oh, God... The bottle she was holding was half-empty. Why wasn't she feeling any better?
Why wasn't she feeling inothing/i?
CH 2
Daryl looked dirtier than usual.
T-Dog didn't much care anymore how anyone in the group looked, but really.. He was sure he could smell Daryl from the moon.
His sleeveless shirt all but ripped apart, dry mud and random dirt caking the man.
Wait a minute...
As T-Dog made sure Daryl wasn't turning around to look at him soon, he sniffed his own armpit. He couldn't help but chuckle when he realized the smell came from him.
Daryl stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder.
"Wut?"
As T-dog cought up he couldn't help but raise his arm and use the other to wave some sweet smell of death toward the other man.
"What're you..." Daryl started, turning all the way to face him. "Hey!"
The redneck made a face like an infant ready to cry before turning around and walking fast-paced further into the woods.
"Yo...you got no sense a'humor, man?"
T-dog began to follow, grinning at the whole scene.
He knew Daryl hadn't gotten over the circumstances surrounding his brother. T-dog dropping the key had been an accident, they both knew it, but T-dog's guilt and Daryl's frustration were still far from digested.
T-dog wanted to try to lighten the mood nontheless.
His ears perked when he noticed Daryl mumbling.
"...smell worse th'n ma brother."
Well, that wasn't fair. T-dog felt he was usually clean enough.
"Yeah, whatever." He smiled anyway.
They were presently checking their perimeters. During the previous day, a walker had been making its way through the swamps surrounding the farm, apparently not hindered by the slimy pits.
The walker was easily enough killed, but the fact that walkers usually didn't come alone made them highten security; walking in pairs around the woods every few hours.
Walking with Daryl didn't bother him. But he couldn't help but feel rather frustrated over the hunter's constant silence, only to be broken by anger.
Sophias death had affected them all; everyone reacting differently. As far as T-dog was concerned, Daryl hadn't reacted at all. He knew how much finding Sophia had meant for the tracker, so there had to be some sort of grief inside the angry man's brain. This is why he had decided that today, T-dog was going to give the scruffy dude a little gift.
He had hidden his secret in the woods earlier today, and he noticed that they would be approaching it shortly.
He continued to follow Daryl looking downward, randomly noticing the size-differences in their footprints. Huh, Daryl had tiny feet.
Daryl suddenly coughed, but there was probably nothing behind it. Let's hope he didn't catch a cold or anything.
T-dog looked around and stopped for a second, noticing the weird-looking log to his right. Oh, right. Finally. This would most definitively lighten the mood!
"Daryl," he called, pointing at the log when Daryl turned.
"This is..." the big man reached inside the log, pulling out a small bag. "..my biggest, most secret secret of all time."
T-dog handed the bag to Daryl who took it with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
Putting his crossbow on his back, Daryl opened the zipper and felt around.
"..s'empty." Daryl made a new face and threw the bag back to T-dog.
"You just keep bringin' the funnies, don't ya."
"Wha'!?" T-dog almost put his entire head in the bag when he didn't find anything himself.
"My booze! Someone stole my booze!?"
CH3
Why was he keeping the booze in the fucking forrest anyway.
Daryl could understand hiding it, but why out here?
This is their perimeter; people of the group walking here all the damn time. Especially after last night's attack.
Anybody could've taken it.
Daryl and T-dog was now on their way back to camp again after T-dogs ragefit, his swearing still filled the air.
"Hey!" He suddenly yelled, running up to Daryl.
He flinched a bit when T-dog grabbed his shoulder. What's with the damn touching? Christ.
"Couldn't you try ta track the bastard for me?"
"Track? Track how? " Daryl stared at him like he was an idiot. "We know it's someone in our group, there's no point in tracking any footprints from that log when they all lead back to the farm anyway!" He scoffed and continued his glare until he had turned all the way around and started walking again. "Fucking stupid..."
T-dog called after him, said something stupid he guessed since it was followed by deep chuckling.
"I SAID; Couldn't you just sniff the bag like a dog and-"
"Will you two shut up!"
The hell?
Daryl turned violently around, barely noticing the whiplash. They were very close to camp, but still far enough out to be in serious danger when alone, so what the hell was she doing here?
Carol sat on the ground, surrounded by a tree, a small bush and some random big rocks. It would've been a cosy little hiding-place if there wasn't a very drunk lady presently occupying it.
Daryl clenched his jaws at the sight, staring, studying everything.
Carol stared back. Or at least tried to; her eyes swollen and drooping.
"..'m tryin'a..." she muttered.
Daryl noticed the vomit. It was covering her right leg and the ground beneath it.
It looked mostly clear, the womans lack of food evident.
She tried again; "I'm trying to dream...of my little girl." she rested her head against the treetrunk, closing her eyes.
"Oh..." Daryl could hear the shock in T-dogs voice.
They shared a concerned look and both started walking toward the poor woman.
Carol's world was spinning less than before. The two men in front of her gave her mind something to focus on. She blinked a few times, finally realizing she had to come up with some kind of explanation for this. Darn. She should've just ignored them, they'd probably just walk past on their merry way.
Daryl was the first to speak. "I guess you're the little thief..."
What? Thief? Her? She had never stolen anything her whole life!
Carol bent forward, ready to deny this outrageous proposition, but was distracted from the bottle of Sambocca sliding off her lap. Oh.
Her eyes widened and narrowed when she really, honestly really tried to focus on Daryl's face.
"This is your...s? I'm so sorry. I thought finding this was just God's anwe...asn..answer to my prayers." She wanted to apologize more, explain all this, but her throat suddenly tightened and wouldn't allow any more words.
Carol felt ashamed. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. Drunk. Dirty. Discusting. Alone.
She was just like Ed!
Her bottom lip twitched and she put her hands up, grinding her eyes with her palms as she tried not to hicup. For a second she didn't care about the two men trying to communicate with her.
Their words just a buzz in her head.
Warm hands slowly caressed her shoulder, trying to elicit a response.
Carol removed her hands which were now slightly moist, eyes still closed. Alright. She could do this. Sophia wouldn't want to see her like this.
"Sorry, what?" She breathed slowly. She opened her eyes but gazed straight ahead, far into the woods. Daryl was crouched to the left, T-dog sat on his crossed legs to her right, both trying to stare holes in her it seemed.
"Why'd'ya start the party without us?" T-dog smiled gently at her. Surprisingly, it made her feel a bit better. Their eyes met and she exhaled; breath held without her knowing.
"Sometimes the forest is the best company." Carols eyes shifted to look at Daryl. He gave her sort of an uncertain smirk.
T-dog waved an arm in an exaggerated motion.
"Naw, man. S'all silent. No fun."
"So what? Nature's calming. And silent or not; still better company than your black ass!"
Carol couldn't help herself; "...You spent a lot of time with T-dog's ass, Daryl?"
Both men stared at her. She started to snicker.
"That was a good one." T-dog raised his eyebrows at Daryl, who glared daggers back.
The redneck smiled when he looked back at Carol, though.
After his bickering with Daryl, T-dog knew he'd have to deal with this situation. Eventually.
He wasn't sure how to handle this, but he knew for sure that Carol definitely needed to clean up.
The smell of vomit was pretty intense, and even though she'd been giggling oddly a moment ago, both her physical and mental discomfort were pretty evident.
Daryl's voice sounded before T-dog figured out how to proceed.
"Want me to find you some new pants? T-dog can stay here with you if you'd like.
Or we can go back to camp together." His voice was gruff, not really matching the words.
Carol bent forward again. The bottle started rolling so the tip faced downhill; spilling some of the remaining contents before settling sideways. Oh well, Sambocca tastes like shit anyway.
"I think," Carols voice was surprisingly sober."...you should get me some new pants, yes.
I'm not sure I could walk straight now, or even want to try."
Her gaze fell to the ground.
T-dog whatched as Daryl straightened and the two shared a look and a nod before T-dog was alone with Carol.
He saw her eyes suddenly moving about lazily, drunkenly, and he really wondered what was going on in her head.
"Having a bad day, girl?"
He tried to catch her eyes but Carol was now apparently intent on observing an ant.
"..."
"Maybe you should talk about it? We're all here for you, you know."
She inhaled deeply, her eyes suddenly locking with T-dogs.
"Y'all know what's going on..." She swallowed. "My baby..."
T-dog knew, of course he knew. He wanted to say that they all thought she was doing better now, he wanted to explain that all this was unexpected. Carol looking for comfort at the bottom of a bottle was a kick in the face, even though he knew. He knew it hurt.
"Yeah," he shifted closer to her, the smell of vomit dissolved and unnoticed.
"We all have setbacks, girl."He thought for a second, hands rubbing his knees. "And I have to admit that sometimes...well honestly I thought you weren't gonna make it."
Carol looked ready to cry again.
"I mean, I don't think I would've made it."
"She was gone for so long, T-dog. She was...I knew Daryl was having too high hopes but..." She paused to sniff and wipe her nose.
"..I needed the hope. The hope kept me going."
"But the hope also made it worse, huh."
"Definitely."
"I feel you."
The bushes rattled, signaling Daryl's arrival.
After facing away and letting Carol change, Daryl picked up the near-empty Sambocca bottle and raised an questioning eyebrow at T-dog.
T-dog gave him a slight nod while resuming his cross-legged position.
Yup, Daryl needed some liquid courage for this.
He took a few gulps, feeling the now-unfamiliar burn. Shit, this was too rare.
He sat down on his butt, bent forward and rested his arms on raised knees with the bottle swinging between them.
It would be stupid to start the conversation with 'What are you, stupid? Why the hell're you gettin' shit-faced out here fer? Stupid fucking piece a' trash!'
It was rather tempting, though.
Instead, Daryl figured the woman just needed some good ol' ecouraging support. He himself felt like shit after the whole Sophia-thing and he didn't even understand why. But that was his problem.
And now, apparently, Carol was his problem too. T-dog wasn't saying anything, just making weird expressions and darting his eyes between him and Carol. So alright. It was up to Daryl.
He gulped down the last drops of the bottle and cleared his throat.
"Merle..." Shit, he was really gonna do this?
"..was a cunt. Hated him. But...When I returned from hunting that day and the cops told me they needed ta talk to me...'bout my brother, I was sure he'd been killed, and I felt..."
Daryl noticed them both staring at him now. Jesus. His thumbnail seemed like a tempting meal right now, but he settled with knawing at his lip a bit instead.
"Um, well...I just thought he was dead for a second, though. Grimes told me he wus still'live, but cuffed to a fucking roof." One more taste of his bottom lip as Carol nodded slowly.
"...I got angry. Heh, I got so pissed I threw my squirrels at him. You know. Shane tackled me to the ground before I got to rip Grimes's face off, though."
"Shane's an asshole, man." T-dog had a slight smile on his face, probably from remembering the squirrel-throwing bit. "He should've let you blow off some steam. Rick would've understood."
"Who cares. I just wanted to find my brother. Rick came with me. I felt better."
He'd been staring at random things on the ground during his story-telling, only glancing at the others rarely. Right now he locked eyes with Carol.
"I had hope."
Carol wanted to say she was sorry, but somehow it didn't feel right.
She thought of the conversation that she and T-dog had earlier, about hope.
Beautiful, ugly hope. It gives strength and steals reason, ripping whoever feel it apart.
She shared a look with T-dog, he understood.
As Daryl continued, his eyes went back to the ground, blinking more often.
"We came to the rooftop. Merle was gone. I got angry again." He started drawing some random patterns in the thin layer of sand covering the ground, making circles around tiny tufts of grass.
"I remember," T-dog didn't dwell on it, though.
Daryl gave him a look, similar to the crying infant-look he gave previously. It lasted a milisecond before his eyes fell to the ground again.
"Yeah, I wanted to kill someone. Just...somebody had to pay. The thought of Merle dying while eaten by Walkers crossed my mind. Couldn't help it. He died a second time for me."
"I totally understand, man." T-dog nodded in confirmation of his own words.
"You expect to see your brother with the return of the group. You got told he was stuck to a roof. You get there and he'd chopped his goddamn hand off and fled to God-knows-where. It sucks."
"'Course it sucks. But we all lost somebody; I ain't nothin' special. I'm tryin' to say that life's a bitch." Daryl stopped drawing circles and looked at Carol.
"I can't imagine what it's like to lose your own daughter, Carol. But you gotta man up and take this shit, 'cos it's not getting better."
T-dog jerked and tried to interrupt while grabbing Daryl's arm, hard. "Hey-"
"Don't you touch me!" Daryl pulled away. "She needs to hear this so back off if you're a fucking sensitive pussy!" He snarled, raising a fist. T'dog raised his own.
Carol was breathing rather shakily, but her face revealed nothing, eyes more sober than ever. She grabbed at T-dog's arm, getting his attention before he jumped the other man.
"Don't worry, T-dog." Her voice trembling a bit more than she'd like.
As both men calmed down, Carol made herself more comfortable. While she didn't understand Daryl's swearing and straight-to-business-attitude, she could see where he was going with this. She knew what was coming.
She suddenly felt awfully tired.
"Like I said, it's not getting better. I wanted to look for my brother, all the damn time."
As Daryl calmed down, he wasn't really sure what to say further. Didn't he have a point to make? His thoughts were scattered. "Um,"
What the heck, let's just rant.
"When Sophia went missing, I got angry again. Stupid fucking Grimes." Oh yeah, he got this.
"I went looking. Every damn day. You know this. You understand."
T-dog had finally settled, tense arms crossed. Daryl glared some more daggers at him for good measure.
"I was looking for her, but also my brother. My goddamn brother! He was gone! Still is!
And what am I supposed to do? I'm a useless motherfucker and my only source of support is gone. Where the hell is he? Is he dead, dying or lost? I don't fucking know!"
As Carol shrunk in on herself, tears gathering in her eyes, she once again felt like saying she was sorry. But it still didn't feel right.
"I probably never will know, bastard stealing our van an' all. He could be halfway to China or the moon now as far as I know! He could be DEAD! BUT I DON'T KNOW!"
T-dog's tension loosened a bit.
T-dog couldn't help but reflect over his own losses. Every human being an this planet had more likely than not lost someone dear to them. It's the sad fucking truth.
Not everyone was strong enough to handle that.
That had him thinking...
Carol must be strong enough to handle this. Jesus, the woman just needed a drink and some privacy. Don't we all sometimes?
This line of thought made him think about the second bottle he knew was in the bag.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but where's the other bottle?
Carol looked at him. Damn, she had tears in her eyes again.
"..It's to your left, under the bush."
As T-dog retrieved the bottle, this one consisting of tequila, Daryl rubbed his face and coughed a bit. "Damn..."
"Here, let's drink to your brother," T-dog removed the sombrero-shaped bottlecap and handed it to the other man. He drank immediately.
"Daryl..." Carol finally spoke, voice impossibly soft.
"I know what you're trying to say. I feel awful. Awful for Sophia, for me, for you, for Andrea, for everyone."
She reached out, flicking her wrist toward the bottle. Daryl gave it to her, his eyes boring into the ground.
"I need to think about this. I think you understand. I should be comforted by the fact that at least now I know. Sophia is dead. She will never suffer again. It should make me feel better, but it doesn't."
If Carol hadn't been swaying a bit where she sat, T-dog would never guess she was drunk.
"I'm not comforted, because while she might never suffer again, she also won't be smiling to me again. She'll never go out and kiss a boy and tell her mother all about her first kiss. She'll never roll her eyes at me because I'm too childish with her. She'll never be in love or even just hate someone with a passion!
She would probably never get to do it even if she was alive, because her father was a bastard and our lives were messed up!"
She started to temble a bit, but drew a long breath and made herself strong.
"So you see, Daryl, I'm not drinking because my daughter is dead. I'm drinking because she never got to be alive!"
Daryl's heart was still beating hard against his chest after his own angry rant.
It got even worse now.
For an observant man, he sure could be a blind sonnuvabith, couldn't he.
He glanced at T-dog, briefly wondering if the big man wanted to blow off some steam as well.
When Daryl recieved nothing but silence he made a grunt-like noise, looking back to the ground. The circles were smudged now.
His bottom lip had started to taste a bit iron-y, so he started chewing his thumb instead.
The silence stretched, nobody saying anything.
Carol's breath was fast, but steady.
Someone had to say something.
"That..." she started, not sure what to say."That made me feel better."
Daryl didn't move. T-dog took the bottle from her and drank some.
"I think both of ya'll needed that." He drank some more.
Daryl sniffed, not from crying, but from trying not to. "..'m sorry."
His face was flushed, jaws tight.
T-dog was reminded of the scene from the rooftop; Daryl so fucking ready to scewer his face with that arrow. The expression exactly the same. It was strange that Daryl's misery hadn't changed its impact one bit.
One thing that had changed, though, was T-dogs reaction to said face.
Before, he felt pity. He felt sorry for this angry, weak and miserable man.
Now, he understood. This man wasn't weak at all. And they were all angry and miserable.
He handed the bottle to Daryl, nodding as Daryl looked straight at him.
Heh, they were connecting. T-dog could dig that.
His plan of getting Daryl tipsy and opening up was definitely working to some degree, with the bonus of Carol ripping him a new one as well.
As far as shitty days go; this wasn't so bad.
They kept passing the bottle to each other, the silence getting more comfortable.
Carol was thinking about Ed again. His face a reminder of what never happened.
All the things Sophia never got to do. All the things...she should've done.
But somehow the thoughts were fleeting; never settling or making an impact.
"You think too much,"Daryl stated."Stop."
Before she could reply, he continued.
"I'm sorry. Again. For what I said." He reached up as if to chew on his thumb again, but let it hover for a bit before settling back to his lap.
"Sophia deserved better. So do you."
"We all deserve better." T-dog added.
"Hell, we all deserve to be happy. Besides the walkers; what's stopping us? We shouldn't linger on the fucking awful shit happening around us." He stood up. Wobbly.
"You know what, bros'n'hoes? We should fucking sing."
Carol looked up at him. There was a thin layer of dried tears on her cheeks, she felt it pull a bit when she raised her head.
"Will you sing for me, T-dog?" Her voice ckacked a bit.
Daryl scoffed.
"Hell yeah!" The great, big arms of T-dog shrugged dramatically. "Me and ol' Daryl will sing for ya! What'cha wan' us ta sing, Carol?"
Daryl scoffed again, but appeared to be thinking. Maybe.
Carol smiled. Even though her tears threatened to pour down her face again, the smile felt...felt good this time.
Heh. A couple of songs entered her mind.
Rick was sick of this. He cared for Shane of course, but the man just seemed to push all the right buttons sometimes, and damn it all if he didn't try his best to avoid arguing with him!
Shane had approached Rick after lunch today and had a rather strange proposition.
He asked if Rick would agree to find a pet for Carol.
He could picture it in his mind ; 'Uh, hey Carol. It's been only a couple of days now, and we're sorry for your loss and all, so we decided to give you a fucking dog as a replacement for your daughter.'
No way. Wasn't happening. Which was why he was walking the perimeter alone now. Shane was brooding too far behind to be seen. The two seemed to argue over nothing and everything lately, after the barn incident. They didn't even have to disagree at all before they started bickering.
Daryl hadn't reported anything out of the ordinary when he stumbled out of the woods earlier, but Rick knew there didn't always have to be a warning for the walkers to arrive. The hunter had quickly made his way back into the woods again after mumbling a quick report, which didn't surprise Rick at all.
He wondered about the extra pair of pants, though.
As he trampled on the marked path through the forest, contemplating if he maybe should wait for Shane or let the guy cool off, Rick couldn't help but calm down.
Huh. The weak winds seemed to carry a slight breeze, and the sound of silence made the anger feel shallow. Maybe a pet wasn't such a bad idea, after all?
It would distract Carol and give her something to care for, and all of them could join in caring for it. A new chance at giving someone a good life. It would have to be a dog, so they could train it to warn them if it spotted something.
But where would they find a dog? And would it be such a good idea to let a canine join their group, when all it would exprerience would most likely be people suffering?
Rick's thoughts were interrupted by a deep, roaring laugh not too far from his present location.
He almost tripped over an empty bag lying near a strange-looking log when he made his way over. He kicked it away, raising an eyerbrow.
The laughing abruptly stopped, replaced by a strange...whine.
He could not for the love of God recognize the sound.
This needed to be investigated.
...but maybe not alone.
He waited until Shane approached, still looking a bit red-faced.
The laughter started up again.
"Hey, did you hear that?" Rick hissed.
Shane's eyes followed the sound and looked like he was consentrating.
Another whine ended in hysterical laughter, a feminine voice joining in.
"Who is that...?"
As they stood beside each other, sharing a look, the laughter silenced.
The two officers listened for a minute before nodding to each other and making their way over, guns on stand-by.
"NAWWWW, I ain't singing that! No way! It's Daryl's turn, anyway!"
Shane stopped for a second. "'Daryl'? And was that T-dog speaking?"
Rick couldn't help the grin spreading on his face.
"Yeah, and he didn't sound completely sober! Let's go and say hello, shall we?"
They soon had the two men in their sight. As Rick noticed Carol lying sideways on the ground with an arm supporting her head he felt a pang of worry, but it quickly dissolved when she suddenly burst into a giggle-fit. He could understand why; Daryl and T-dog was...singing?
And Daryl was the lead, apparently.
"Wish you were here, me oh my countryman wish you were heeeeere!"
T-dog joined in as choir "Wish you were heeeeere!"
It was awfully off-key, but Rick recognized the song so he nudged Shane and said "Let's help them out." Shane snorted, but raised his eyebrows when Rick nudged him again. "Are you serious..?" He mouthed and tilted his head.
Rick nodded, winking at him. They both chuckled.
They made their presence known by bellowing the chorus while stepping in their sight, even though Daryl had already continued to the next verse.
"Wish you were here, don't you know the stove is getting colder!"
Shane noticed the bottle and reached down to pull it from T-dog's hand. T-dog let his jaw drop slightly and his eyes darted drunkenly all over the place in shock.
"And I miss you like Hell!"
The cops were the only ones singing now. The redneck had gotten to his feet, swaying a bit and chewing his thumb, probably feeling guilty that Shane and Rick had managed to sneak up on them without him noticing.
"And I'm feeling bluuuuue!"
Neither Shane or Rick new the rest of the song. Rick chuckled nervously.
Awkward silence followed.
Shane drank a healthy amount of tequila. He hated tequila. He drank some more.
Carol sat up after staring at them, her face twisting as she snorted so hard that a snot-bubble appeared in her left nostril.
She laughed, and laughed and all the men knew it was the most beautiful sound in the world.