Daryl actually does manage to return within minutes, proudly bearing a clipboard which he hands off to Rick in exchange for a heaping plate of pancakes from Carol.
Rick watches the man settle down at the table across from the woman and smiles as he settles the clipboard on the table in front of him and divides his attention between it and the bowl of cereal in front of him.
Rice Krispies in rice milk tastes just as delicious as it sounds and to any sane person it sounds like utter shit. Rick soldiers through it, though, ignoring the way Andrea keeps grinning at him all knowing like as she seems to actually be enjoying her corn flakes growing soggy in the liquid. Course, with all the sugar she'd dumped in, her cereal might actually taste good.
Carl, thankfully, seems to find the milk alternative too unique for his taste buds and it seems to be enough to distract him from the painful thoughts that had been stirred earlier by the memory of Lori's birthday breakfast from three years ago. The boy manfully empties the bowl that Andrea had wisely chosen to fill only halfway and he's now staring at Daryl's pancakes with a palpable envy.
Carol, wise mother that she was even after Sophia's passing, hides a smile behind a mug filled with steaming herbal tea then pushes to her feet to go retrieve a hidden plate holding two golden pancakes under a paper towel. She snags a bottle of syrup from the counter and moves to swap Carl's empty bowl with the plate, removing the paper towel to set on the table for her to place a butter knife and fork on. She exchanges a smiling glance with Andrea then cringe sympathetically at Rick before returning to her table to finish her tea and the bit of hash still on her plate.
Rick watches his son cut into his real breakfast with gusto and his own stomach gives an audible grumble before he lowers his gaze back to the unappealing bowl before him.
"Waste not…," Andrea whispers under her breath at him as her foot nudges lightly at his under the table.
"Want not," he grumbles, meeting her laughing eyes with a grudging amusement in his own. "I really want not."
Her head drops forward as she tries and fails to cover the laugh that escapes her at his lowly whispered words. For a moment, she shines, light and laughter; the sun for her hair and sky for eyes. Then her hand presses too far over her mouth to try stifling her laughter and her fingers push against her cheek and she stops laughing with a hiss of pain. Rick reaches out to pull her hand away and she twists in his grasp to get a tight grip on his fingers to help her ride out the hurt.
"Stupid," she hisses, stomping a foot under the table as everyone looks on in concern. "You'd think it'd be pretty hard to forget that you've been disfigured by a murdering-" she breaks her words off and squeezes her eyes shut. "Sorry, Carl."
"Sorry for what?"
"I shouldn't have said," Andrea begins, opening her eyes to look at the boy.
"Shouldn't have said what? That you were disfigured by a murdering asshole?" Carl pushes away his half-eaten plate and rises. "You're right. You shouldn't say that. Because he cut your face, he didn't disfigure you. And he was a murdering asshole. I'm not a baby. I'm not a kid anymore," he looks around the room, voice growing too strong and firm for any of them to mistake this for a tantrum. "I may be the youngest one here, but age doesn't mean anything anymore if you can't survive on your own. I don't need coddled. That was mom's job and she's…," his head drops forward as his voice sinks back to that of a boy. "She's gone and we all just gotta get over that. She gone, Shane's gone, Dale's gone, Jaqui, Jim, Amy, everyone I ever knew in King County is gone. The world is dead or dying. Don't apologize to me for speaking the truth where I can hear it."
With that, he jams the Sheriff's hat down tight on his head then stalks from the cafeteria. There's no shortage of volunteers to go after him, everyone jumps to their feet at once with the obvious exception of a confused looking Eugene and a truly riveted by the drama Axel.
"Let me go," Beth surprises them all by speaking up and moving forward. "He doesn't need a bunch of grown-ups right now trying to sugar coat the world. I'll make sure he doesn't do anything foolish," she looks to Andrea with a weak smile then meets Rick's gaze with only a slight flinch. "I promise I won't let anything happen to your boy."
Rick scrubs a weary hand over his face then muffles a scream in his palm before nodding his assent for her to go.
"Thank you, Beth," he calls after her as she darts after his son.
He sits down heavily and shoves aside his unwanted cereal without giving a damn about waste and Andrea makes no effort to chide him; joking or seriously. He ignores the eyes upon him, grits his teeth and bears it as they all hear Axel's stage whisper to Eugene that "these people are better than Springer" then buries his focus in the clipboard Daryl brought him.
According to the lists; the color-codes are for the cell blocks, which should have been obvious in hindsight. Each of the four keyrings had a color and belonged to it's own block. A was green, B blue, C yellow and D red. As to which key is which on each keyring for each block, there really isn't anything of use and there's absolutely no reference to a causeway or access to it. Nothing on the clipboard links the armory, warehouse or garage to a cell block, which meant that it might have and require its own keyring and Rick did not appear to have one if that is the case. If by some chance, those keys are in his possession, he's still going to have to go through each one to find the only capable of opening that particular entrance.
"Ok," he says, softly and just to himself at first as he sets the clipboard aside. "Okay," he repeats with more conviction as he rises. "I realize that some of you are still eating and I want you to take your time with that, but we need to start planning for the day ahead. Yesterday," he pauses to take a bracing drink of coffee before continuing; "yesterday we got a glimpse of what lies in the infirmary. Andrew was lost there and we're lucky that it was just the one to fall before Michonne managed to shut more Walkers out."
"Axel," he looks to the man for confirmation and support, "Axel says that there's more to the infirmary than that. That more could be good or it could be very, very bad. At this point, we all know to expect the latter, but we need any supplies that might be left of a medical nature. I want to get across to that other building, but I won't know if any of these keys will get us there until I try them. All," he dangles the yellow tagged keys indicated by the clipboard to belong to C block, "of them. If we encounter the same kind of threat that we did yesterday, there won't be any time for us to play with the locks and we'll have to focus on going around the outside. Both options mean we'll be clearing out Walkers; both options mean we'll be at risk, but either option is manageable if we keep our heads about us."
He sees heads bobbing in agreement amongst his group and focuses on the remaining inmates.
"Axel, I'll be relying on your knowledge of the infirmary," he looks at the grizzled man then focuses on Eugene. "Eugene, we needed you for the generators yesterday, but I'll give you the option of staying back today. I'd even go so far as to recommend it. More of us means more risk; more lure. We've had better luck keeping our group small and fighting hard, quick and dirty; fierce and brutal, gets the job done."
"I can see how I'd be more hindrance than help with that," the man slumps forward, frowning over his empty plate.
Rick makes no apologies or attempts to correct the man's negative self-image. The man has value and he's demonstrated it; that value is more his brains than brawn and Rick is glad to be leaving Eugene behind in an area that's been cleared as safe for them. He turns his attention to Hershel.
"I'll give you the same option. I'd like your insights on what's of use supply wise, but once we clear the area out, you can always go back in later and do an inventory," Rick meets his steady gaze and sees no arguments there. "We can do a fair job of ransacking the place for the basic necessities."
The man nods his agreement without complaint and Eugene sits up a bit straighter at seeing Rick ask one of his own to stay behind. Carol rises to begin collecting dishes and Maggie looks divided between her father and Glenn.
"We'll pare it down to half then; Axel, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, T-Dog and myself," Rick looks to each one in turn and braces for Andrea's protests.
"I could stay behind," Glenn surprises him by speaking up. "If you know what keys go for the gates, we could start working our way around the yards and clearing them out. I mean, why wait until tomorrow to start when we're going to have to do it anyway if we're going to be moving things there to burn them," crosses his arms defensively over his chest under the stares suddenly turned upon him. "It just makes sense to me."
Rick stares at the young man; his stiff posture and anxious pacing near the Greene family are clear indications of where his loyalties lie. Rick sees another gulf before him with no idea how to bridge it so he turns away to focus on Andrea. She arches a brow, clearly less than thrilled about being second choice, but she rises from the table without argument.
"Whatever I can do to help," she murmurs with a wry twist of her lips as she moves to stand beside Michonne.
"We'll do that, then," Rick says, seeing Glenn's logic and resistance. "Andrea, you'll come with us. The rest of you, focus outside. None of these keys have markings for the gates, so either the inside guard didn't have that access or the inner gates are all controlled electronically. If it's the former, check the guards outside for different keyrings; check the watchtowers if you can get into them. If it's the latter, we have to find the control room."
He looks to Axel at that, waiting for the inmate to volunteer the location, but the man just shakes his head.
"If the guard's room upstairs doesn't have what you're looking for, then I don't know what will. I'd imagine anything controlling this place would be located to the front; A or C block."
"What's the chance of it being in the other building?"
"There's a chance," Axel shrugs.
"Look, bud," Daryl rises to move closer to the other man, "we appreciate all your help here, but cut the shit. One minute you know this place inside out, the next you've got bupkis; which is it?"
"I know this place better than any other inmate; been in it twice in my life, but I still only know it as an inmate. I learn things from the guards; talk to them, listen to them talk, but you go asking questions about control rooms and they tag you as an escape risk," the man pushes to his feet, growing irritated. "I'm putting up with a lot from you people and if you're just out to ride my ass then I'll gladly crawl back in a cell and play solitary. You don't like the information that I do have then start sorting it out on your own."
Andrea moves quickly to stand in the inmate's path before he can stride out.
"Hey, now," she looks up at him with a small smile, "there's no need for that. We are asking a lot of you and I'm sorry we haven't thanked you for everything that you've done. Living like we've been, outside of here, I guess we've let go of some manners," she tries to widen her smile only to gasp and wince when it pulls at her stitches.
When Axel softens, looking at her butchered face with concern, she plays her trump card and looks at the man with wide eyes.
"I'd really appreciate an aspirin right now. Can you please help me to get to the infirmary for that?"
His big shoulders relax and he slouches down to her level with what's likely to be his most charming smile.
"I can never say no to a beautiful woman in need," he lifts a hand as if to touch her and Rick tenses in preparation to lunge at the inmate even as Andrea keeps her calm. "It's not right," Axel says, dropping his hand after hovering it over her cheek. "What Thomas did. You've gotta know that Gene and I, we'd never-"
"I know," she lifts a hand to squeeze his shoulder, "but I'm glad to hear you say it anyway."
His smile grows and Rick frowns even as he appreciates the skillful way that Andrea diffused the situation before it could become a problem.
"I'll need something a little more than this," she says, turning to Rick while drawing out her pocketknife.
"Take the machete in my bunk," Carol offers from the kitchen. "We'll be more in the open here, so I'll be fine without it."
"You're not going out in those yards without a weapon, woman," Daryl turns on her with narrowing eyes.
"I wouldn't dream of it, man," she retorts with a pointed glance. "Someone broke into the knife drawer," she grins as produces a wicked looking meat cleaver.
"That someone best not be getting smart with me," Daryl grouses, his eyes smiling back at her.
"Oh, no one would dream of doing that," she smiles sweetly and sets the knife down on the counter.
Seeing his friend with a look somewhere between wanting to kiss the woman and throttle her, Rick clears his throat and steps in between them to be on the safe side.
"Looks like we're just about done here," he looks at the tables being cleared of empty dishes. "I'm going to go talk to Carl. How bout everyone here do a weapons check before we head out? Make sure your sharps are sharp."
He moves to exit the cafeteria and Andrea catches his eye, silently asking if he'd like her to come with. Tempted as he is to have her support and easy touch in dealing with his son, he shakes his head and moves on without her. He has a hunch about where Carl is and it's proven right when he stalks outside and through the gate to the yard where Lori's buried. Beth and Carl are sitting in the grass beside the grave, talking calm and quiet when Rick finds them.
"Beth," he nods to the girl, "they're cleaning up inside, if you wouldn't mind…"
She looks at Carl with an apologetic smile before scrambling to her feet and moving past Rick with only a passing glance.
"You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?" Carl yanks at the grass around him, pulling it out by the roots.
"Not stupid, Carl," Rick squats down. "It's necessary. We're going for the infirmary. Get medicine, bandages, things we need. Things Andrea needs right now."
"We going now?" he pushes to his feet at the prospect.
"A group of us, yes," Rick stays down and looks up at his son, part of him boggling at how much Carl seems to be growing before his eyes. "You'll be staying here; cleaning out the yards to clear the way around to that side lot."
"Why aren't I coming with you? I can find stuff. Help carry it back."
"It's only a small group of us going. The infirmary's where we lost Andrew yesterday. I don't want to take any chance of you getting bit or accidentally hurt in a fight. I don't know what we'll be dealing with and I need to know you're safe."
"I can take care of myself," Carl's expression is mulish. "I'll be fine with you."
"You'll be safer here," Rick argues firmly.
"Like mom was?"
"Carl," Rick rocks back on his heels at the challenge and accusation in that question.
"We're family. Family's supposed to stick together. We didn't and now mom's dead. The baby's gone. We're it," he widens his stance and puts his hand on the hilt of the gun on his hip like a genuine gunslinger. "I'm either with you now or never again."
Rick takes a minute to absorb the words and his son's deadly serious expression. He thinks of all the warnings and talks that he's had with the boy of late and he remembers the things that Carl has seen – has done.
"You're right," he nods, pushing slowly to his feet. "You're ready. How many bullets do you have left?"
"Five," Carl answers without even checking.
"Now, Carl, you should always-"
Carl cuts off his lecture before it begins by whipping the gun out and pushing the chamber out with a practiced move likely learned from Shane.
"It holds six," he flips the revolver around to show Rick the ammunition inside. "It was fully loaded when we went out yesterday and it's only been fired one time. I still remember my math, six minus one if five. Always know what you've got to work with."
He pushes the chamber back into place, tucks the gun back in his pants and tips his head back.
"I know, dad. I've seen you do this a hundred times already. I listen when you talk. Now let's go. We're wasting daylight."
Rick turns and watches him stride away; his spine straight, focus dead ahead and step certain. He's suddenly, painfully, aware of why Lori wanted them to try keeping Carl a boy for as long as they could.