A/N: This was supposed to be a shorter chapter, but this week was weird and I decided to change the ending. I hope you all like this entry.
By the end of the day, the entire town knew about the heated confrontation between Rick and Michonne in the church, courtesy of Father Gabriel's nosy assistant. Unfortunately for Michonne, the woman had blown things completely out of proportion, leaving the townsfolk to believe that the samurai was the aggressor in the situation. It also led a few members of the community to question whether or not the gang should be outed to certain Southern neighbors.
Despite the sincerity of his warning, Rick knew he had overstepped his boundaries in dealing with Michonne earlier. For the longest time, he prided himself on the way he treated people and his traditional values, but something about this woman stirred paradoxical emotions within him, which frustrated him to no end. There was something strangely intimidating about her and the way that she looked at him. Not since Lori had he felt such upheaval and if he were being honest with himself, those emotions terrified him. He had spent a lot of time returning to normalcy and would be damned if he allowed anyone, especially a known outlaw, to devastate him again. Instead, he distracted himself with work and buried his emotions. He would deal with them at another time.
In the evening, Michonne retired to the middle room with Abraham, lounging on his bed as they went over a map of the area. He had returned from the next town over, a place called the Hilltop, and now they were plotting their next move based on the information he had uncovered for her. After spending the rest of the day with Michonne, and informing the team of her emotional state, Jesus left the hotel to run a standard perimeter check of the town and roads. It was a practice they began a couple of years ago after some rangers ambushed them in an isolated Mississippi town because they had failed to keep an eye out for incoming travelers.
Noah, Rosita, and Tara entered the room, dressed in fine silk evening gowns and a suit they had acquired on a recent trip to New York. Abraham whistled approvingly at Rosita, who's magenta petticoat and black lace trim accented her beautiful features and glowing skin. In contrast, Abraham and Michonne wore simple faded blue button downs, both having no intention of leaving the hotel for the rest of the night.
"Look at y'all," he cooed, sitting up straighter on the bed while Michonne smiled, helping Noah place a large beige steamer trunk in the corner while Tara set down a couple of hand-stitched haversacks on top, ensuring that their valuables were consolidated in one room while the three of them went out.
"Off to the ball?"
Noah straightened his vest and grabbed his matching light grey Boss of the Plains hat off of the small chair in the corner. "Off to the bar," he informed them. "Tara mentioned a card game so we're going to check it out."
Abraham saw the impish glint in Tara's eyes and laughed. "Try not to steal all of their money, you three," he advised. "Michonne's done enough to piss off this town."
Michonne rolled her eyes and grabbed her gun belt from off the nightstand, opening the money pouch. "Get a round on me," she tossed Rosita a few coins. "And if you see any deputies, buy them a round as well."
"This an apology?" Rosita inquired. Jesus had told them about what had transpired at the church and she knew their leader had a lot on her mind. After months of riding through the South nonstop, they were finally close to finding the man who had taken Michonne's son from her ten years prior. They needed to play nice with the locals for now and certain issues in Michonne's own past were clearly making it difficult for her to deal with the sheriff. Rosita knew they would have to ease tensions if they were going to remain in town.
"A peace offering," Michonne responded softly and Rosita nodded, giving Abraham a quick peck on the lips before the small group headed out.
"You sure you want to do this tomorrow?"
Michonne glanced over at Abraham before returning her attention to the map. "If you're sure you saw him."
"It looked like him." Abraham took her chin in his fingers and turned her face towards him. "We're closer than we've ever been. We need to be careful. You've drawn enough attention as it is. If he spooks-"
"He won't spook," she interrupted harshly. The concern in Abraham's eyes softened her a bit and she touched his knee in apology. "I'm not going to rush this, Abe… I just… I need to see his face for myself."
"It was him, Michonne, I'm sure of it."
She smiled slightly, kissed his cheek, and looked down at the map. "Noah and I will go up to take a peek," she informed him quietly.
"No, not Noah," Abraham muttered, pushing the map out of the way and laying back on the bed. "The two of you will draw too much attention."
"Fine, I'll take Tara and Jesus."
"No." Michonne looked down at him over her shoulder, eyes clouded in frustration. "If you're going to do this, I'm going with you. That ain't up for negotiation."
"Rosita-"
"Rosita will understand. We started this thing together and I'm not about to sit on my ass, twiddling my dick while you 'take a peek'," he growled and she snorted. Abraham tilted his head until he caught her gaze, his eyes steady and determined. "I know you, Michonne. You're going to kill him if you see him and Jesus ain't got the stomach to do what's necessary to stop you."
"And you do?"
"I have before." He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Just like you stopped me before I fucked up."
Michonne's eyes darkened at the memory but she said nothing. She knew he was right. While he was not as keyed in to her daily emotional state as Rosita and Jesus were, Abraham knew her better than the rest, having been in the crowd when her son had been auctioned off before her very eyes. He had heard her screams, seen the tears, and watched briefly as her masters attempted to beat her into submission. By the time Abraham managed to buy her, Michonne's son had been summarily executed for attempting to escape back to his mother before the man who bought him disappeared into the night. Abraham freed Michonne within hours of her purchase and took her north, where she was able to recover and educate herself before beginning her years' long journey. Through it all, Abraham remained loyally by her side and now that they were close to finding her son's killer, he was not going to let her go through this without him. If she were being honest with herself, she did not want to go without him.
"Thank you, Abraham," she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest and taking a deep breath. He nudged her with his foot and chuckled to himself.
"You're welcome, Michonne."
They fell into a peaceful silence as she grabbed the map, memorizing the various routes around Alexandria. It was a nice change of pace to lay in bed after two nonstop weeks of sleeping on the wet ground. Abraham grumbled when someone knocked on the door and got up, shuffling over to the door reluctantly while Michonne began tying up her hair.
"Oh!"
Michonne looked up to see Carl standing at the door, katana in hand, with a startled look on his face. He faltered under Abraham's gaze. "Um… Ms. Wilson wouldn't let me in…I snuck past her and I thought I heard Miss Michonne..."
Abraham raised an eyebrow incredulously and glanced over at the younger woman, drawing Carl's gaze as well. He blushed violently upon seeing her on the bed in her state of undress and lowered his eye as she stood up to approach the door.
"Mr. Grimes," she smirked, noticing that he was still wearing his blacksmith's apron. "This is a surprise."
"I uh… Um…" He held up her blade and Abraham took it from him. "Hey!"
Michonne held up her hand to the boy and tilted her head at Abraham, who chuckled and went back to the bed, setting down the katana in the small chair. Carl started to back away but she stopped him.
"Thank you," she whispered, catching his eye. "I appreciate your willingness to come up here. Most people are avoiding me."
He glanced over at Abraham again and shrugged despondently. "You're welcome, ma'am."
"You're the sheriff's boy, right?" Abraham clarified and Carl nodded. "Then why are you here?"
Carl was unable to mask the surprise on his face at the man's question. "I'm just here to drop off her sword-"
"Stop mumbling and come in," the large man ordered, beckoning the young man into the room. "Let's see how good of a job you did."
Michonne hid a smile as Carl shuffled past her to stand at the foot of the bed while Abraham pulled out the katana and examined the sharp blade carefully. "Ask," she encouraged the hesitant lad. "Ask your question."
"I don't have a question," Carl attempted but Abraham snorted.
Michonne offered him an encouraging nod. "It's fine. Ask."
Carl paused for a beat, uncertain if he should even be in the room with the criminals. But something about Michonne gave him courage. There was a belief in her eyes, an understanding, that instantly garnered his trust. Despite his current predicament, he felt safer with these two bandits than he did with certain members of his community.
"Um…" he took a deep breath and decided to plunge in. "Why do you do it? Why are you here?"
Abraham chuckled at his question as he put the katana in its sheath. Michonne's face twisted in sadness and humor, betraying to Abraham her thoughts of her son. Betraying to Carl her immediate acceptance of him. Abraham motioned to Michonne, drawing Carl's attention.
"You'd have to ask her," he told the boy quietly, his eyes filled with reverence. "She's the boss."
Carl frowned and turned to Michonne, observing her at her spot by the door. "Why?" Was his simple question.
Michonne's eyes swelled with tears as they connected with Abraham's. She took a deep breath of her own and motioned to the small chair in the corner, somehow compelled to educate this young man on her history. Compelled to inform him of her past, their past….
"Sit down," she instructed quietly. "It's a pretty long story."
Several embittered members of Alexandria were unwinding in the bar that night while Rick, Daryl, and Sasha took up residence at a table in the far corner, discussing the day and observing the heated discussions that were taking place.
"Someone aught ta turn them in," a man grumbled from his stool. Travis Sumner, Rick observed silently. A stable hand from the local Greene farm, he was fairly well liked around town, though not without his money troubles. "Get a couple of bounty hunters-"
"Ain't nobody callin' any bounty hunters," Daryl growled, readjusting his crossbow on his back. "You want more problems in this town or less?"
"Well, if the law ain't gonna do somethin' about it," the man snapped back angrily.
"They haven't broken any laws here," Sasha reminded them all as she went over to the bar to get another drink. "And the crimes they're wanted for aren't crimes here, so shut the fuck up."
There was some agitated grumbling from a small group of white men at the corner of the bar in response to her words, but withering glares from Daryl and Rick silenced them quickly. Despite the general acceptance of Sasha and Glenn as authority figures in the community, there were a few ignorant stragglers that Rick had to keep an eye on. It was a problem Rick figured he would always have to deal with.
One of the women in the bar, a young widow who lived down the road with her two sons, approached Rick's table meekly. "Sheriff, I think everyone's just worried about their motives," she whispered. "The stories we've heard..."
Rick offered her a comforting smile. "It'll be fine, Jesse," Rick responded softly. "What happened in the church has been blown out of proportion and y'all need to stop believing everything you read in the papers." Jesse's cheeks turned scarlet under his gaze and he glanced over at Daryl, who had noticed the woman's interest as well but was not compelled to comment on it. A year ago, about two years after Lori had died, Jesse's affection for him became more apparent. For the most part, Rick welcomed the advances until a violent altercation between Carl and her son, Ronald, left a massive rift between them that was only now beginning to mend slightly. At least so he thought.
Daryl finished the rest of his drink and looked around the bar, eyes resting on Carol, who sat with Glenn and his wife, Maggie, playing a lively game of cards. He was going to get up and move over where they were when Tara, Rosita, and Noah entered the bar, effectively halting all conversation as they moved over to a table in the middle. Tara counted the deputies, smiling to herself at their matching white shirts, faded black vests, and leather gun belts, each packing a Colt Dragoon Revolvers, except for the woman, Sasha, who carried a Sharp's military carbine rifle on her back, along with a Colt Navy Revolver. A strange gun for a black woman to have possession of, given its Southern proliferation. Michonne's own group carried the same guns, but only after hijacking a shipment from some Southern military a few weeks back.
One of the men who had grumbled at Sasha turned his sights on Rosita, eyeing her lustfully as he took another swig of beer.
"What's your name, girl," he coughed loudly, attracting her attention away from the door.
"Excuse me."
"Your name!"
The young woman exchanged glances with her comrades, remembering Michonne's wishes as they sized up the potential problem that could arise.
"Rosita," she offered sullenly, her eyes darting to Carol, who had gotten up from the card game to whisper something to the barkeeper.
"What you doin' here, Rosita," the man demanded, stressing her name in a strange and annoying way. Tara rolled her eyes but said nothing. If Rick's words to Michonne in the church were to be taken seriously, they would have to do what they could to avoid confrontation. No point getting into a bar fight at this juncture, especially when Tara knew the men would lose. Beating up men in such an environment, with so many women present, did not seem like the best way to maintain a semblance of peace.
"We're here to rest, relax, and make friends," Tara quipped, prompting Rick to chuckle, despite his best efforts to ignore the exchange. Jesse, who was still standing nearby, started a bit at the sound he made and he felt obligated to offer her a seat.
"Please sit down, Jesse," he yielded and she quickly took the spot next to him, pleased by the action.
"You lot here to cause trouble?"
Rick sighed. It was Travis and his friends from the end of the bar who had been jawing off all night. He watched the women in Michonne's group turn in their chairs while the young black man stood up and approached Carol at the bar.
"We're just here to have a drink, sir," Noah responded tersely, handing the wide-eyed barkeeper several coins with a smile. "Drinks for everyone."
The mood shifted instantly as the bar erupted in thanks and excitement for the shots Spencer began to pour for everyone. Rick tried to enjoy the moment, but Michonne crossed his mind and he could not help but wonder where she was. With her people bribing his town with drinks, her absence was more obvious to him. He felt his heart beat faster at the mere thought of her and in an effort to distract himself he turned back to Jesse, who willingly accepted his attention.
There was such a fervor around the bar that no one noticed three Alexandrians slip out the door, the image of Noah with all that much money seared in their minds.
"So we're riding down this pass, and at this point we can't stop the horses 'cause we got thirty head cattle all around us and four big fuckers with guns comin' on our rear like we just slapped their mamas," Abraham explained to a fully engrossed Carl, who was now sitting on the ground in the bedroom, watching as the large man acted out the story while Michonne giggled on the bed.
"How did you get out?" Carl insisted, eye wide with anticipation. Abraham motioned to his comrade and she sat up straighter on the bed.
"We swam," she boasted cheekily, prompting them to laugh. "The pass led to a river delta so we managed to get across."
"With nothin' but the clothes on our back, fifty dollars, and that katana," Abraham added, motioning towards the blade.
"You lost the cattle!"
"We lost everything," Michonne clarified. "The horses refused to cross and we were ten seconds away from bein' shot, so we just jumped in."
"And they didn't follow you?"
Michonne shook her head. "Only one of 'em could swim."
Abraham chuckled at the memory of the lone man doggy paddling across the river. "They cut their losses and left with the cattle."
"All because of a woman?"
Abraham snorted and stood up, heading over to the door. "Boy, you live long enough, a woman will always be involved somehow," he muttered. "Ain't always a bad thing. Just... they're always gonna be involved."
Michonne caught Carl's eye and they shared a smile as Abraham left the room to retrieve a newspaper clipping from one of their other rooms. "In this case," she began as she reached out for her katana, unsheathing the blade. "She was trying to help us, but the woman's husband ripped us off."
Carl watched her examine her weapon and he rested his head on his knees, amazed by the woman before him. The stories in the papers did not do her justice in how captivating and intimidating she was. They certainly did not mention the tragedy that was her life and the lives of those she took up arms with. Nor did it prepare him for how easy it would be to explain his own past to her.
"I wish I could do that," he muttered, more to himself than to her. She caught the way he eyed her blade and she tilted her head to the side.
"Do you have any training with weapons?"
He pulled out the small Colt Pocket Revolver and offered it to her for examination.
"How long have you had this?" There was a brief pause before she looked up to see him stand.
"Not long," he answered quietly and she caught the change in his face. She sat up straighter on the bed and leaned forward to catch his gaze.
"What is it?"
He shifted uncomfortably and she was about to tell him to forget about it when he shook his head.
"It's the same gun that shot me," he mumbled.
Michonne looked over his scarred features and her heart clenched painfully. "What happened?" she inquired softly and he shrugged, lowering his gaze as his cheeks reddened. She gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and work through his embarrassment about the wound, though as she waited, she could see hints of rage flicker through his eye.
"Carl," she began, silently questioning why she felt so compelled by this young boy. An instinct that had been dormant for ten years was reemerging within her and despite her trepidation, she was quickly beginning to embrace this young man as one of her own. She was about to make him a training offer before the inner wall of the bedroom was rapped three times, in a distinct rhythmic fashion, drawing her attention instantly. Without missing a beat, she got up from the bed and pushed Carl behind the bed, holding a finger to her lips to keep him quiet as she moved back to the door. Inhaling sharply, she pressed herself to the wall, slid down slightly, and peeked around the door, catching sight of Abraham standing in the small hallway, watching two men coming out of the last room that Tara and Michonne shared. She mentally cursed herself for not having heard them pass before.
"Can I help you gentleman?" Abraham asked the two caught men.
"Just doin' a standard room check," one of the men drawled, fingering a gun on his belt. Michonne's eyes connected with Carl's and she shook her head at him as she continued to listen.
"Ain't nothin' to check up on," her comrade responded tersely. "And you don't work here."
"We're deputies," the other man lied quickly. "We got authority to conduct spot inspections. Make sure you ain't got anything illegal."
"You ain't deputies and you need to leave," Abraham snapped, tensing up as they pulled out their guns and pointed it at him.
"I don't think that's gonna happen."
She could hear Abraham and the two men coming down the hall towards her bedroom and she moved quickly, jumping over the bed to Carl and shoving him underneath it.
"Stay quiet," she hissed.
"But-"
She reached out and grabbed a small cutlass out of the drawer, shoving it in his hand and snatching his gun away from him. "No shots," she snapped as she opened the window. "Keep quiet." Before he could protest she squeezed under the four poster bed with him just as Abraham's feet reappeared in the bedroom, followed by two pairs of boots.
"Look, fellas, you're about to make a huge mistake," Abraham growled, thankful to find the room's occupants no longer in sight.
"Shut up... are you sure we're gonna find them here. That last room had nothin'."
"I saw the coins. That nigger had a bunch of it. Had to of come from somewhere," one pair of boots retorted while the other moved past Abraham to a trunk in the far corner of the room. Carl could feel his limbs burning as adrenaline kicked in, but Michonne's hand on his kept him from leaping out in an attempt to help his new friend.
"Open this," the other boots ordered gruffly. Abraham grunted painfully when the gun in his back was dug in briefly before the boots backed away a bit, providing them with some distance. Carl tried to recall who's voice it was, but was distracted by Michonne, who was silently repositioning her katana in front of her.
"Where's the woman? The samurai?"
Abraham eyed the guns the two men were using, shifting his weight to his back foot as he looked for an opening. "I don't know, she ain't here," he responded.
"Where is she?"
"She ain't here," Abraham snarled, watching as the men started looting the room, dragging valuable items out of the trunk to examine.
"James, look at this." The man held up a heavy pouch and opened it, eyes widening. "Jesus Christ..."
The other man's curiosity got the better of him as he approached his friend, gaping at the sparkling jewels in the velvet bag. Abraham waited a beat until he was sure they were thoroughly enraptured by the treasures before he tapped his foot twice. There was a moment's silence before a katana shot out from under the bed, striking James in the ankle, severing his Achilles' heel instantly and spraying blood everywhere. Just as he was falling, a gun slid out to Abraham's feet and he snatched it up, aiming it at the other man as he whirled around in shock.
"My foot!" James squealed, slamming into the nightstand before hitting the wood floor with a sickening thud, clutching his bloody foot. Michonne kicked out at his face, knocking him on his back while Carl scrambled out from under the bed, knife at the ready. He instantly recognized the injured man as James Cavanagh, and his accomplice as Peter, his brother.
"Drop your gun," Abraham ordered. "Now!"
The man did not move until Michonne emerged, katana raised at his jugular. "Drop it."
Carl watched as they disarmed Peter, his heart pounding with excitement at what transpired. He was about to suggest that he go get his father when he heard some pounding footsteps coming up the stairs. Instinctively, his eyes went to Michonne, who pointed to the side of the door as she raised her blade. He backed up as she ordered just in time for the third Alexandrian arrived, gun drawn in an attempt to see what was happening. Carl smacked him in the back of the head with the hilt of his knife, causing the man to go stumbling, gun flailing around dangerously. Before a shot could be fired, Michonne sprung across the bed, wielding her katana and slicing through his hand with a violent cry. As the man collapsed in agony, she grabbed his face and brought it down on her knee, raising a protective arm over Carl as the wounded man crumpled into unconsciousness, his severed hand lying close by.
"TRAVIS!" Peter bellowed, ignoring Carl completely in his attempt to charge at Michonne. Abraham tackled him to the ground and they wrestled for a second before a gun went off, striking the door just above Michonne, propelling Carl to grab her and pull her down. Another shot went off.
"Abraham!" Michonne gasped, holding onto Carl as she waited for movement. "Abraham!"
"I'm alive, keep your bloomers on," he panted, standing up and wincing. "Though admittedly, I've been shot."
"Abraham, you bastard," she reprimanded, hurrying over to see Peter groaning on the floor, gunpowder burns on his face as he clutched several cracked ribs. She grabbed the gun off of the floor and tucked it under the bed. "Jesus..."
"Let me see," Carl offered, taking Abraham's arm tentatively to examine the wound. It was just a graze, thankfully, and Carl grabbed a shirt off of the ground to tie around it. Michonne picked up the dropped bag of jewels, sighing.
"I told you we should have buried these," she voiced in exasperation, looking over at the young man. "Are you okay?"
It was impossible for her to hide the apprehension on her face and he nodded. Despite what had happened, Carl never once felt scared and was surprised by how shaken she now looked, given her cool demeanor seconds earlier. He nodded to her and she patted his back, moving to the door to see if anyone else was coming. Carl was thankful that she was not coddling him.
"What are we gonna do with them?" Abraham grumbled, looking out the window to see several people gathering outside, having heard the noise. "They're gonna bleed out."
"We should let them," Carl snarled hatefully. "After what they tried to do-"
"Shut up," Michonne barked, grabbing the young man and pulling him to the door. "You need to leave, now."
"But-"
"You cannot be here when the deputies show up."
"I can help," he insisted and she shook her head.
"You can help by vouching for us when the time is right," she countered. "For now, go home."
"Will you be okay?" he pressed and she softened a bit, seeing respect and concern written all over his face. Just as she was beginning to embrace him in such a limited time, he also was beginning to feel protective of her.
"Don't worry," she assured him. "Go, before you get in more trouble."
Carl sensed her urgency and somehow knew deep down she was trying to protect him. Michonne watched him disappear down the stairs before turning to see Abraham wrapping a tourniquet around James' leg. Outside, she could hear the crowd growing and someone was shouting for people to move out of the way.
"Here comes the law," Abraham warned, peeking out the window again.
"You lot are gonna get it," Peter sneered. "You're a bunch of ni-"
Michonne crossed the room in two bounds and slammed the hilt of her katana into his face, glaring down at him as he swore viciously through the blood that spouted from his broken nose.
"Shut up," she hissed, kneeling down next to Abraham to see what was going on outside. Several Alexandrians were outside the hotel along with Rosita, Noah, and Tara, who were being held back by one of the deputies. Rick and Sasha were talking with the hotel keeper, who was flailing her arms about anxiously, pointing up to their rooms. Michonne saw him look up at them and she ducked down, resting her back against the wall while she quickly wiped the blood off of her katana. "Well... so much for that."
Abraham snorted and she glared at him, causing him to laugh even more. "This is just like that auction raid in Savannah. The one with Colonel Edwards."
Recalling the incident, Michonne rolled her eyes as she tucked her weapon behind her, out of sight from anyone who would enter through the bedroom door. "That was a shit show."
"Yeah, just like this," he reminded before sobering up. "People are going to hear about this..."
Michonne shook her head. "We're not leaving this town... not yet."
"Someone's gonna turn us in. They are gonna turn us in," he pressed, pointing to their attackers. "Bounty hunters or some shit-heeled rangers will be here in a week or two."
"Then we have a week... or two..." Abraham shot her an incredulous look and she sighed, understanding the gravity of situation. Their hopes of not causing trouble had been dashed, leaving them with little time to finish what they came here to do. "We're close, Abraham, you said it yourself. This doesn't change anything. We'll figure it out, we always do."
His eyes softened and he exhaled deeply, listening as the deputies made their way up the stairs. "I hope you're right. Last time I woke up in jail, you and Tara had left me stranded naked in that farmhouse," he whispered and she smiled.
"If I recall correctly, that's how you met Rosita," she murmured, sitting up straighter as Rick and Glenn entered the bedroom, guns raised. Rick's lips parted in shock at the bloody mess of groaning bodies before his eyes landed on Abraham and Michonne by the window, arms raised in surrender. "Well, good evening, Sheriff Grimes." She nudged the man beside her. "Abraham and I were just getting acquainted with some of Alexandria's best." She motioned to the men on the floor. Their eyes connected, her heart skipped a beat, and she trembled slightly under his piercing gaze. "Fucking criminals," she breathed.
A/N: This has been a tragic week and I hope everyone is safe where ever you may be! Give a hug to your loved ones!
TWDeadpool: I'm glad you like it so far! :)
traceytaylor71: I'm a sucker for Richonne, but I'm desperately trying to pace myself with these two. Considering what just transpired, there will be more angst in their future.
flacagonzales: Thank you! Well, something's about to combust :) We'll see how much heat is left after this.
Siancore: The relationship between Carl and Michonne is one of my favorites and wish we could see more of it on the show. You'll definitely be seeing more of them. Thank you so much for your feedback! I love adding more details to the story and the fashion of the time is gorgeous! Don't worry about getting carried away! :)
Zeejack: There's a lot of intrigue going on, but I don't think either of them is ready to admit to an attraction. As I said to Siancore, I love Carl and Michonne's relationships, so you'll definitely see more of that. Your senses about Rick and the town are not wrong, so stay tuned! Thanks for the review!
