"I thought it was a joke that you couldn't handle alcohol."

Maggie settles against the prison wall, the cold concrete giving her sweaty back a reprieve from the humidity of the day dripping down her, soaking her shirt.

Glenn lets out a sort of giggle, his movement sloshing the liquid of his cup, spilling a few drops on their sheets.

Her fingers trace over the wet marks, a slow smile growing across her face, as Glenn continues to grin back at her, his eyes growing heavy, and his long hair drifting further and further into his face.

"Where did you hear that?" He jokes, laughing at his own comment, a red flush crawling up his face.

"Nowhere," she says with a shake of her head, knowing full well the stories she'd heard from the group during a time before they'd entered her life. The giggling, blushing boy that had been described was sitting before her, the stress of the day slowly dissipating with every sip of alcohol he took.

"Are you sure you…don't…want any?" He slurs a bit, holding out his drink to her.

She shakes her head, pushing the cup back to his chest.

"Where'd you get this stuff anyway?" She asks, amusement tinging her voice.

He wildly gestures out the curtain of their cell like that explained enough.

"Ahh," she mocks, pretending like she knows exactly who he's talking about.

They'd been lucky lately, fell into a routine of the prison since the addition of the Governor's people had come to live with them. They had livestock and communal meals, and no deaths. That one was most important, no one had died.

Sometimes, late at night when she was on watch, she'd look out over their community, and she'd allow herself to daydream about the future. A luxury she hadn't been afforded for so long that it felt good, it felt right to do so.

Every night, when neither of them were on watch, they'd crawl into bed, exhausted from the days chores, but ultimately content, happy, knowing that their family was safe, and that when the day broke, they'd be there, side by side, together.

However, the threat of the unknown, in all forms, always seemed to knock on their door, this time presenting itself in a situation that had her stomach tied in knots.

"All gone," he says, tipping the cup back, and she's pretty sure that's the last of it in the prison.

"I'm sure someone'll be on the lookout for it on the run tomorrow," she teases, his hand coming to his face, before he moves to lay down. She quickly moves her feet, his head hitting the pillow. Her legs coming to lay across his torso with a grunt from him.

He peeks at her from his position, and she fights back a smile at the state of him.

"You're cute," he says with a goofy grin, all teeth, and flushed cheeks.

She laughs at that, leaning back, and accidentally hitting her head against the wall.

"Oww," she calls out, rubbing the back of her head, but only causing her laugh to continue at her clumsiness.

"You okay?" He asks concerned, trying to lean up, but his inebriated state, paired with half of her body draped over him, causes him to collapse back down with a thump.

"We're a mess," she proclaims.

"Ugh," he groans, placing his arm over his eyes.

A silence falls over them, and her head dips to his hands, tracing the lines spanning across his palms, tickling his skin, causing them to twitch underneath her touch.

The words on the tip of her tongue, but refusing to make their way into fully formed sounds. The thought percolating in her mind, manifesting itself in her nerves, distracting her from her tasks, and always on the verge of pouring out when she even so much as glanced at Glenn.

Someone had shared with him the last their alcohol, and while never one to drink, less out of availability and more so because of his reaction, he'd suggested they drink it that night.

She'd slyly avoided it, instead finding humor in his rambling, focusing on the movement of his lips with each word, each laugh.

"Maggie," he softly calls, breaking her out of her reverie, his hand coming to land on her shin.

She looks up, the smile never leaving his face.

"You okay?" He asks, his words etched in concern.

Her lips purse into a smile, as she nods from her position.

"I'm late," the words tumble from her mouth, out in the open, instantly sobering their recipient.